The Bank
by Zan1781
Summary: What happens when a trip to the bank goes awry? Sara gets a lot more than she bargained for, when the bank that she is in gets robbed. Slight WS. Complete.
1. The Bank

**A/N: **This is another idea that has been kicking around in my head… I hope you all like it!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The Bank_

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"Mommy, I don't _wanna _go in there!" five-year old Timothy Fitzsimmons told his mother, stamping his foot on the ground, and glaring at the First National Bank. "I don't _wanna_, and you can't make me!"

"Come on, Timothy," Lonnie sighed, shaking her head. "I need to make a deposit, honey. We won't be in there for very long, I promise. And after we go to the bank, we'll go out for lunch. You still want to go to McDonalds, right…?" she asked her son, trying not to lose her patience.

"Uh-huh," Timothy told her. "But I wanna go to McDonalds right_ now_!" he yelled, crossing his tiny arms across his chest, and frowning. "Right_ now_, mommy, and I mean it!" he added, almost ready to throw himself on the ground, in order to better kick and scream.

"I've had enough of this, Timothy Richard Fitzsimmons! You march yourself into that bank with me right now, and I'm not joking!" she told him, finally losing her temper. Reaching down and grabbing one of his arms, she firmly walked him into the bank, her deposit slip in her hand.

"I _hate _you!" Timothy mumbled to his mother, staring straight ahead. "We never get to do what I want to do, even when you tell me that we can! It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!"

Lonnie bit back a retort, ignoring the expressions from the people around her. She was used to Timothy's temper tantrums, and she realized that most parents also experienced embarrassment stemming from their child's behavior, at least once or twice in their life time. Although she understood that her son shouting in the bank was annoying and inappropriate, she also recognized the fact that children sometimes acted up, when they did not get what they wanted.

"Did you hear me?" Timothy tried again. "I _hate_ you!"

"Yes, Timothy, I heard what you said," Lonnie quietly replied. The words hurt, but…what else could she say? He was angry… she knew that, and could even understand it. "And I am sorry that you feel that way."

"Then can we go to McDonald's now?"

"Telling me that you hate me won't get you your lunch any faster, Timothy," she told him. "And in fact, your behavior might just get you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, rather than a Happy Meal."

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!" Timothy yelled, pouting.

"Sorry, Tim," she simply said, moving forward in line.

"Ma'am?" a tall security guard coughed, clearing his throat. Slowly walking towards her, he sighed. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to control your son… this is a place of business…" he pointed out. "Not a playground…"

Lonnie glanced down at her son, frowning. He was now completely ignoring her, staring at the ground. "I don't think that there will be any more shouting," she told the guard, pointing to her son. "But I'm sorry for the disturbance, sir," she added.

The guard merely nodded, before walking away.

Timothy turned his head to glare at his mother, before once again facing forward. After a couple of moments of silence, however, his eyes suddenly widened, and he tugged on the hem of his mother's shirt.

"What is it, Tim…?" she tiredly asked him.

Staring at the woman in front of him, he grinned. "Mommy, look! I know that person!" he whispered.

"Who?" Lonnie mumbled, looking around the crowded bank.

"That woman!" he pointed to the person in front of them. "The lady in the strange looking vest, and the baseball hat!"

Lonnie raised an eyebrow, before shrugging. "I don't know her, Timothy, I'm sorry…" she trailed off.

"Miss? Miss, do I know you?" he asked, leaning forward, and tapping her on the back with one of his tiny fingers. "Do I know you?" he repeated, "'Cause you look _very _familiar to me!"

"Timothy, leave her alone," his mother hissed, yanking his hand away before the woman could say anything.

"Who… me?" the lady asked, turning around to look at the little boy.

"Uh-huh! Who are you? I think I know you! Are you on television?" he asked. "Blues Clues? Or the Power Rangers?"

"Uh… no…" she quietly replied, trying to hide the amused expression on her face. I work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab," she told him.

"The crime lab…? There's a lab that makes crimes?" Timothy incredulously asked her, his eyes once again widening. "What kind of crimes do you make…?" he questioned the woman.

The lady chuckled, looking down at the little boy. "I help _solve_ crimes," she explained. "Not commit them…"

"OH!" Timothy smiled. "Well that's good… my mommy says that it is bad to commit crimes. Right, mommy?" he turned to look at his mother.

"Right, Timothy. Committing crimes is bad… look, ma'am, please ignore my son. He's just having a bad day…I'm sorry that he's bothering you."

"My name is Tim," Timothy told the woman, ignoring his mother. "What's yours…?"

"It's alright," she smiled at his mother. "And my name is Sara," she added, looking down at him.

"I have a boo-boo on my arm, Sara!" Tim pointed to his cast, which was already covered with several signatures and pictures. "I broke it today, falling off of my bike!"

Sara grimaced, as she moved closer to the bank teller. "Well that must have hurt…" she trailed off.

"Uh-huh! But I'm a big boy, so I didn't cry for very long!" he explained to her.

Sara just smiled.

"Big boys don't cry, did you know that…?" he continued, being very serious.

Sara glanced over at his mother, who gave a half smile. "I know a lot of big boys who cry," she finally told him. "Crying is normal…"

"That's not what my daddy says!" Timothy grinned. "But that's okay. Look, Sara, it's your turn!" he smiled, pointing to the bank teller.

"Thank you, Timothy," Sara replied, as she turned back around, and moved forward.

"You're welco—" Timothy started to say, before the lights in the bank went out.

"Huh…?" Sara mumbled to herself, puzzled. "Are we having a power outage…? This can't be good…"

All of a sudden, a loud voice penetrated the darkness. "NOBODY MOVE, OR WE'LL SHOOT!"

Hearing the sounds of guns cocking, Sara immediately froze.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	2. Absolute Terror

**A/N: **Thanks for your reviews! They keep me going!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_Absolute Terror_

_---------------_

Despite the bank robbers' orders to freeze, panic filled the minds of just about every person in the room. And with the panic, came absolute terror, screaming, and crying.

Sara stood still for a moment, eyeing the petrified teller in front of her. All around her, people continued screaming, looking around in confusion and terror. _This isn't happening… I know it's not happening. I'm going to wake up, and this will all be a dream. A very funny dream, involving… Bonnie and Clyde, _Sara tried to convince herself, attempting to swallow her own paralyzing fear.

Taking a deep breath, Sara slowly turned around, once again trying to swallow her panic. _This definitely isn't happening… it can't be…_ she assured herself, cautiously glancing around the room. But then she paled, after the realization of what was going on actually hit her. One bank robber was busy chaining up the front door, while three more were dispersed throughout the small lobby of the bank, each pointing a gun at the frightened patrons. Blinking, Sara tried to take a deep breath, in order to steady her nerves. _This bank is really being robbed. It's really being robbed… it's really being robbed… it's really being robbed…_ she told herself, over and over again.

As her panic gave way to an even stronger feeling of raw fear, Sara continued to glance around the room, frowning. _Too many possible hostages! There are too many possible hostages!_ Directly behind her, there were four more people waiting in line to see a teller: Timothy and his mother, a young woman of around twenty-five, and an older gentleman of about seventy. The bank had three actual tellers on duty, and one financial counselor sitting behind a desk, off to the right of the counter. Sitting in front of the counselor, sat two terrified individuals. A newlywed couple, Sara assumed. And then there was the guard, Steve. Steve, an overweight man of around forty, with graying hair, already had his hands up in the air. _So that makes… twelve possible hostages, and four bank robbers_, she thought to herself, counting the masked men.

Once again swallowing, Sara frowned, as more people continued to scream and try to run.

"WE SAID NOBODY MOVE!" one of the masked men yelled, pointing his gun in the air, and firing off a round.

Sara jumped at the noise, automatically hitting the ground, and covering her head… as did most of the other people in the bank's lobby.

"Mommy…? What's going on…?" Timothy loudly screamed, his eyes wide with fear. "Who are they…? Why are they here? I'm scared!" he wailed, moving to his mother's side, and trying to cling to her.

"EVERYBODY, DOWN ON THE GROUND!" another masked man yelled, waving his gun in the air.

"Mommy, I'm scared!" Timothy repeated, trying to attach himself to his mother's leg.

"It's okay, Timothy, it will be okay…" his mother told him, starting to shake. Wrapping her son in her arms, she slowly knelt down on the ground, pulling him down with her. "It'll be okay, Timmy," she repeated, trying to cover him with her body. "But I need you to do what they say, okay…? And I need you to stay quiet, honey…" she whispered, trying to hide her fear from him.

"I don't want to, mommy," Timothy sniffled, trying to stand back up again. "I'm too scared!"

"Honey, you have to lay down…" Lonnie begged him. "Please!"

"I don't wanna!" Timothy replied, as tears began to form in his eyes. "I'm scared, and I don't wanna!"

Sara, from her position on the floor, watched the exchange between the mother and her son. "Timmy, listen to me," Sara whispered. "Lay back down, okay?" she asked, turning her gaze to take in the masked men. Timothy just shook his head no, the tears streaming down his face even harder. "Lay down, right now!" she hissed, once again swallowing her own fear.

Lonnie blinked, pulling on Timothy's shirt in the hopes of making him fall down.

"No, mommy!" he wailed, as he shakily pushed away from her, trying to move towards the door. "I wanna go home!" he screamed, crying. "I wanna go home!" he repeated, stumbling towards one of the masked men.

"Well, what do we have here…?" the third masked man asked, as Timothy walked towards him. "Who does this kid belong to?" he loudly asked the room full of hostages. "Someone want to claim him, before I kill him?"

"Don't hurt him!" Lonnie screamed, instantly jumping up.

Sara just groaned. There was no way that this day was ever going to end peacefully. Peaceful men did not talk about killing a five year old boy, even just in jest.

"Please, don't hurt him!" Lonnie repeated, running towards the masked man, and her son.

"WHOA, THERE!" the man screamed, pointing his gun at Lonnie. "Don't you take another step, Sweetheart!"

Lonnie froze, swallowing. Looking up at him, she glanced at her son. "Please don't hurt him…" she whispered. "Can I… have him back…?"

"Sure," the robber shrugged, pushing her son at her.

"Thank you," Lonnie whispered, holding her arms out to Timothy.

But before anyone knew what was going on, it all went terribly wrong. Steve, trying to save everyone, pulled his gun on the robbers. Firing off a round at the man by the door, he frowned, when his bullet missed, lodging itself in the door.

The patrons started screaming again, once again trying to protect themselves by covering their heads with their hands.

_It's all happening too fast! It's all happening to fast! _Sara frantically told herself, glancing around at the chaotic scene in front of her.

"Timothy! Come here!" Lonnie yelled for her son, screaming in fear.

_Not good, not good, not good! _Sara thought, covering her head, and trying to peer up at the robbers, all at the same time.

But it was too late. It was all too late. Just after Steve fired his gun at the bank robber by the door, one of the other masked men shot him, stopping him cold. And when Lonnie screamed, the man who _had _been holding Timmy, jumped, accidentally firing at her.

"What the hell!" Sara screamed, as Lonnie fell before her eyes, Timothy still a few feet in front of his mother.

"Oh shit!" one of the masked men yelled, looking around the bank. "EVERYONE STAY ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE!"

"Mommy…?" Timothy whispered, staring at his mother. "Mommy…?" he added, running to her side.

Lonnie stared at the ceiling, trying to breathe. "It.. it hurts…" she whispered, swallowing. "It hurts so bad…"

Ignoring the bank robbers, Sara crawled over to Lonnie's side, immediately ripping off her own spare sweater, and pushing it against Lonnie's chest. "It's okay, I've got you," she whispered to her, blinking back her tears. "I've got you…"

"You, woman in the hat!" one of the robbers yelled, pointing his gun at her. "Get away from her!'

"She's going to die without help!" Sara screamed back. "She needs treatment, or she's going to die!" she yelled, keeping pressure on the wound.

Lonnie just stared up at Sara, trying to breathe, and trying to ignore the pain. "Please…" she whispered to Sara. "Help…me…"

"SHE NEEDS MEDICAL ATTENTION!" Sara again yelled. "HELP HER!"

Lonnie put a shaky hand on Sara's arm, trying to get her attention.

"It's going to be okay…." Sara firmly told her. "It's going to be okay…"

Lonnie shook her head, using her eyes to plead with her. "Timmy…"

"Will be fine!" Sara finished her sentence, glancing over at the little boy, who had tears streaming down his face. "He'll be fine!" she repeated.

"Keep… him…safe…" Lonnie struggled to say, once again swallowing. "Tim…" she whispered.

"Mommy…?" Timmy softly said, glancing down at his mother. "It's okay… I'll be a good boy, don't leave me, okay…?" he asked. "I promise… I'll be a good boy…" he told her, as everyone else in the bank watched the scene unfold before their eyes.

"Tim… love… you…" she whispered, as her eyes slowly closed.

"I love you, too, mommy…" Timothy whispered. "But…"

"I'll take care of him," Sara promised, tears forming in her eyes. "I promise…"

"Tim… love…" she repeated, before her heart gave way, and she stopped breathing.

"Mommy…?" Timothy once again asked, nudging her with his hand. "Mommy… wake up!" he mumbled, as fresh tears started to slide down his cheeks. "Wake up, mommy! I'll be good! I told you, I'll be good! We don't ever have to go to McDonalds! I _hate _McDonalds!"

One of the bank robbers frowned, staring at his partner. "What have we done…?" he whispered. "What have we done…?"

"Listen up, everyone!" the robber by the door spoke up, once again holding his weapon towards the crowd. "Everyone get up, and move to the left side of the counter. NOW!" he screamed, as people got up, quickly running to the wall. "You, too!" he added, pointing his gun at Sara, who still had yet to move.

"How… could you…?" she whispered to the closest robber, slowly reaching her arms out to Timothy, who was desperately clinging to his mother's side. "How…could you…?" she repeated, trying to drain the venom out of her voice.

"Mommy…?" Timothy quietly asked, once again nudging her. "Wake up, okay…?" he asked, oblivious to the fact that all of the hostages were still staring at him, fear and tears in their own eyes.

"Move, _now!_" the man ordered Sara. "And take him with you!" he screamed, pointing his gun at Timothy.

"Timothy…" Sara whispered, trying to get his attention. "I need you to come sit with me, okay…?"

"I want my mommy…" he replied. "Please… I just want to stay with my mommy…" he added, shoving his thumb into his mouth, and rocking himself back and forth.

"Timothy…" Sara tried again, crawling over to him. Gently pulling him into her arms, she slowly stood up, walking over to the other hostages.

"Mommy…" he whispered, as he clung to Sara's neck. "I want my mommy…"

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	3. Helpless

**A/N: **Thanks for your reviews! They keep me going!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Content Disclaimer:** I really don't know police procedures for responding to a bank robbery, and I don't know any law enforcement officers to talk to… If you happen to notice something glaringly wrong, please let me know, and I'll fix it!

**Title: **_Helpless_

_---------------_

**Inside the bank**

"Everyone stay calm, and no one else will get hurt…" one of the masked men hissed, holding his gun out in front of him.

Sitting on the floor against the wall, the ten remaining hostages continued to whimper, staring at everything except for the four bank robbers. They were scared, and… Sara knew that they all had every right to be. With the security guard already dead, and Lonnie _probably _dead, the thieves now had nothing to lose. Jumping as the air conditioning unit sputtered on, Sara tightly held Timothy in her arms, trying to think of something… anything… to do. _If only I had my gun_, she sighed. _Of all of the times to leave it in the car…I feel so helpless! Damn!_

"Let us go, please…" Albert Fulbright, the seventy year old man, whispered. "Please… my wife… she's sick, and I need to get her medicine home to her. She'll die if I don't…" he pleaded.

"Come on, Mustard… let's let some of them go…" one of the masked men hissed. "We don't need ten hostages…" he added.

"Shut up, Wadsworth…" Mustard told him. Then turning to glare at the old man, he added, "And you shut up, too… no one is going anywhere!" he yelled.

_Mustard? Wadsworth…?_ Sara thought to herself. _Characters from Clue…? _Trying to process things through, Sara bit her lip. _Okay. So the bank robber named Mustard killed Steve… he's obviously in charge. And Wadsworth is the only one of the four who is currently showing any signs of weakness or remorse_. _So… Lonnie's killer is still unnamed_, she thought with a sigh.

"I'm scared, Sara…." Timmy spoke up, tearing her away from her thoughts. Looking up at her, and trying to bury himself even further into her arms, he added, "I'm _really _scared…"

"I know, Timmy," Sara replied, gently running her fingers through his hair. "I know you are…" _And I am, too._ Glancing up at Wadsworth, she finally said, "You don't… you don't have to do any of this, you know. Just let us go… please…"

"Oh yeah? We don't have to do any of this?" Mustard retorted, not even giving Wadsworth the opportunity to reply. "Well we'll let you go… when we're done getting what we need…" he mumbled. Turning to look at one of the tellers, he added, "You… do you have a key to the safety deposit boxes…?"

"N-no," Susan replied. "I d-d-d-don't…"

"Who does?" the robber asked.

"The manager…" she whispered. "Over there…" she tilted her head, pointing to Ronald, who had also been doubling as a teller for the day.

"Come on, let's go," Mustard growled, pointing his gun at Ronald. "Up and at 'em… the rest of you, stay here," he told his colleagues. "And Professor Plum and Mr. Green, if any of them try to move… kill them…" he warned.

"I'm scared…" Timmy again whispered to Sara. "I wanna go home…"

"I do, too…" Sara told him. "I do, too…" she added, glancing down at her pocket… and the cell phone hidden within.

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**Outside the bank**

"All available units, report to the First National Bank on Lindale. We have a 211 in progress. I repeat, all available units report to the First National Bank on Lindale. We have a 211," the message came over the police scanners.

"We have a live one…" Johnny Applebaum said, as his partner flipped on the red and blue flashing lights, and sped off toward the bank. "Hopefully this will be an easy one," he sighed, as his partner weaved in and out of traffic, arriving at the bank in record time.

"Yeah, you're telling me," Aaron Abbott replied, hopping out of the car, and glancing around. Squinting up at the top windows of the bank, he frowned. "What do we know so far?" he asked one of the cops, who was just milling around.

"Nothing yet," Carter Reed replied, running to help cordon off the bank.

Abbott sighed, glancing at the news crews. _This is going to be quite the day_, he frowned.

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**In the lab**

Greg ambled into the break room, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Taking a swig, he frowned. "This stuff is disgusting," he mumbled, taking a seat at the table, and flipping to the cartoon section of the newspaper. "I should have made the good stuff…"

"Greggo, how goes it, man?" Nick asked, walking into the room, and pouring himself a cup of the tepid liquid.

"Not much… just waiting for the shift to begin," Greg replied, running a hand through his spiky hair. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothing," Nick shrugged, taking a seat across from Greg. "I hope this won't turn out to be a busy night."

Greg grinned, looking up as Catherine strolled into the room.

"Hello, gentlemen," she smiled, brushing the lint off of her suit jacket.

"Hi, Catherine," Nick nodded, looking up at her.

"Hey…" Greg added, turning his attention back to the funny pages.

"Have any plans for the weekend, Cath?" Nick asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Lindsey has a soccer game," she said with a smile. "And then we're going out for dinner."

"That sounds like fun," Nick replied. "Hey, has anyone seen Sara? It's not like her to be late to work…" he added, glancing at his watch. "Shift only started five minutes ago, but…" he shrugged. "She's usually here an hour early."

Catherine laughed, pouring herself a cup of coffee, and taking a seat at the table.

Before anyone could say anything else, however, Warrick walked into the room. "Have you guys heard?" he immediately questioned his friends, a frown on his face.

"No, what?" Nick asked, his smile slowly fading away.

"There's a 211 on Lindale…"

"A bank robbery…?" Greg asked, setting his paper down, and glancing up at Warrick. "Are you serious?"

Rather than answering Greg's question, Warrick merely flipped on the television set, changing the channel to display one of the local news stations.

Sure enough, a picture of the First National Bank was plastered on the screen.

Warrick sighed, sitting down at one end of the table. "Unbelievable…" he mumbled.

"I just don't understand people…" Catherine frowned, watching the broadcast.

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**Inside the bank**

"You, hat lady," Professor Plum growled, pointing his gun at her. "Stand up."

"What..? Why…?" Sara cautiously asked, just holding onto Timothy even harder.

"Just do it!" he yelled, moving closer to her.

"Okay!" Sara mumbled, gingerly lifting Timothy up, and setting him to the side of her.

"No, Sara," he whispered. "I don't want you to go!" he added, trying to cling to the hem of her shirt.

"It's okay, Timmy," she quietly told him, gently rubbing his back for a moment. Glancing over at the twenty-five year old who had been in line with them, she asked, "Can you…watch him, please?"

Rebecca Miller nodded, holding her arms out to Timothy. Timothy slowly crawled over to her, plopping himself down in her lap, and trying to tightly pull her arms around his body.

"We don't have all day!" Professor Plum finally interrupted. "Let's go!"

Sara swallowed, slowly walking toward the bank robber. "We have a message for you to deliver to the police outside…" he informed her. "It's in a box. We want you to take it outside, and then return back in here. If you don't come back, we'll kill you—and your little friend," he hissed, turning towards Timmy for a moment.

"Fine," Sara mumbled, cautiously following Professor Plum to the door. Glancing down at Lonnie, she squinted, stopping cold.

"MOVE!" Professor Plum told her, digging the barrel of his gun into her back.

"Wait a minute," Sara whispered, dropping to her knees, and sliding her fingers down Lonnie's jaw line to her neck. _Is she… alive? She can't be. It's been… ten minutes already, _she thought to herself, glancing up at the clock on the wall. _There's no way that she can be alive, not with the bleeding out, but…_

"NOW!" Professor Plum hissed, nudging Sara with his foot.

"I don't think she's dead!" Sara frantically yelled, standing up. "It's not too late to save her!"

From behind Professor Plum, Wadsworth frowned. "She's still… alive?"

"I… don't know!" Sara replied. "But… I…"

"Door, now," Professor Plum ordered, cocking his gun.

"But she's—"

"Now…" he repeated, shoving her toward the door. "And remember… set the box on the ground twenty feet from the doors, and come back. Or else..." he trailed off.

"I know…" Sara mumbled, hesitantly walking toward the door. Pulling her hat more firmly down on her head, she took the box from Professor Plum, and slowly shoved one of the main doors open. Taking another deep breath, she walked outside.

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**Outside the bank**

"Someone's coming out!" a detective shouted, as every officer on the scene cocked his or her gun, and aimed for the doors. "We have someone emerging!" he repeated.

Sara once again swallowed, glancing around at all of the police vehicles. Clutching the box tightly to her chest, she slowly walked away from the "safety" of the bank's main doors, and toward the center of the cordoned-off area. Gently setting the box down, she once again glanced at the police officers, before walking backwards.

"What does her hat say?" Applebaum asked his partner.

"It says CSI," Abbott replied. "And I would say that she is a tourist, except… her vest is an authentic CSI uniform…" he trailed off. "Do the bank robbers even know who she works for…?"

Applebaum frowned. "I'm going to say that no, they don't, because if they did…I think she would already be dead."

---------------

**In the lab**

Sipping her coffee, Catherine watched the news broadcast. "This is unreal…" she mumbled.

"Yeah, no kidding…" Nick replied, nodding at Grissom when he noticed him standing just inside of the doorway.

"What are you all doing in here…?" their supervisor asked, looking a little bit puzzled.

"211," Greg simply told him, completely entranced by the broadcast.

Slowly shuffling toward the table to sit down, Grissom frowned. "Where's Sara…?" he then asked, looking around the table at the assembled group.

Nick and Greg shrugged, still watching the television.

"Don't know…" Warrick replied.

"I think someone's coming out…" Catherine interrupted everyone, squinting so that she could better see. "Yeah… someone is definitely coming out!" she added.

"Interesting… that tourist is wearing a CSI hat and vest…" Greg pointed out.

"Is that…?" Nick asked, his face suddenly draining of color.

"Shit! That's Sara!" Warrick yelled, jumping to his feet.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	4. Tick Tock

**A/N: **Thanks for your continued reviews and critiques! I like making my story better, so keep the ideas and suggestions flowing… but more importantly, I hope that you enjoy the next chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Content Disclaimer:** I really don't know police procedures for responding to a bank robbery, and I don't know any law enforcement officers to talk to… If you happen to notice something glaringly wrong, please let me know, and I'll fix it!

**Title: **_Tick-Tock_

**Outside the bank**

Jim Brass glanced up at the entrance to the bank, doing a double take when he saw a very nervous Sara Sidle step out. "She's one of ours!" he told one of the detectives, as the man came out of the command post. "She's a CSI, and she's one of ours!" he repeated, trying to study her face. With the perspiration dripping down his face, Brass sighed.

Sara swallowed, staring at the police officers assembled in front of her. She knew that they would not pull their triggers, but a part of her was still terrified that something would go wrong… terribly, terrible wrong. Glancing at the ground, and trying to swallow her panic and fear, Sara slowly shuffled back towards the bank, praying that nothing would cause the police officers to spray her body with bullets.

Frowning at Sara's outfit, Ryan Moss, the lead detective, grimaced. _CSI? _he mouthed to her.

Sara flicked her eyes to the name on her vest, giving him an imperceptible nod.

"Ma'am?" he then quietly asked, stepping forward, and holding up his hands. "What's going on in there? How many masked men are there?" he questioned her, frowning, as she continued to back up.

_I can't tell you! _she inwardly yelled. _Don't you get it? I can't tell you! Or they'll kill us all! _

"Are there two?" he asked. "Three? Four?" he continued. The moment that the detective said the number four, Sara rapidly blinked her eyes. _Four! There are four!_ she screamed to herself, still backing up towards the bank.

The detective froze, staring at Sara. "Let's try that again… how many robbers are in there? One?"

No response.

"Two?"

No response.

"Three?"

Sara blinked once. _Sorry! My eyes are dry!_

"Three?" he repeated.

No response.

"Four?"

All of a sudden, Sara once again started blinking her eyes, still slowly moving backwards.

"You're doing well, ma'am," the detective said, slowly taking another step closer to her. "How many hostages are there…? More than five?"

Sara rapidly blinked, frowning.

"More than ten?"

Sara again rapidly blinked.

But before the detective could ask another follow-up question, the doors to the bank flew open, and Mr. Green shoved his head out of the door. "Hat-lady! Get back in here, now!" he screamed. "We said out and in, with no delays!"

With a sigh, Sara turned on her heels, running back into the bank.

**CBS News, anchor desk**

"If you're just joining us live, you are witnessing a bank robbery in progress. The First National Bank on Lindale is being robbed. As of right now, we do not have very many details, although we are assuming that there are indeed hostages. In fact," Renee said, putting her finger to her ear, as if listening to someone off camera. "It appears as if one of the hostages is stepping out of the bank…"

Flipping to a scene of the entrance to the bank, Renee took a moment to study the image. "Yes, it looks like a young woman is being sent out of the bank, with a package in her hands. She must be delivering a message to the police force…" she added, as the camera continued to follow Sara's progress. "And what's this? One of the detectives appears to be asking her some questions… We can't quite make out what he's asking, but… she seems to be giving them some sort of an answer…"

**In the lab**

Within seconds, Grissom had his cell phone out, still watching the television set. Punching in Jim Brass's speed dial number, Grissom frowned, disbelief written all over his face. When Brass finally picked up, Grissom asked, "Jim, what's going on? Are you watching this on the news…?"

"Actually, no," Brass replied. "Sofia and I are standing behind the command post now, Gil," he sighed. "And before you ask me, we don't know what's actually going on…"

"Does she look hurt, Jim?" Grissom swallowed.

"Not from what I can tell," Brass replied, shading his eyes in order to get a better look at Sara. "No visible signs of bruises or… bleeding, but…" he trailed off. "I'll keep you posted, okay, Gil?" he then asked.

Grissom nodded, before remembering that Brass couldn't see him. "Fine… I'll have my phone on…" he sighed, sitting back down at the table, next to Warrick.

"Why is… Sara at the bank…?" Greg quietly asked, staring at the television set.

"Probably just doing some banking before work…." Catherine mumbled, tightly holding onto her coffee mug with both hands.

"This is unreal…" Nick pointed out, frowning.

Warrick just drummed on the table, watching the newscaster.

**Inside the bank**

"What the hell was that all about?" Mr. Green asked Sara, waiving his gun in her face. "We said out and then straight back in. What did that cop want from you?" he growled.

"He… wanted to know what was going on in here…" she trailed off.

"And what did you say?" Mr. Green asked.

Sara tried not to roll her eyes. "I didn't _say _anything! I didn't have _time _to _say_ anything!" she retorted.

"Are you one of those crazed fans…?" Wadsworth quietly spoke up, staring at Sara's hat.

"What…?" Sara and Mr. Green asked at the same time, both confused.

"Your hat…" he pointed towards her head. "CSI… isn't that a hat from that show, Crime Scene Investigation?" he asked. "Or whatever it's called?"

Sara frowned, staring at him. _You've got to be kidding me. _"No, I'm not a crazed fan…"

Mr. Green's eyes grew wide, as he finally put two and two together. "You work for the Las Vegas crime lab, don't you?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Sara just stared at the ground, not saying anything. _Uh-oh…_

"You're a cop…?" Timmy quietly whispered from Rebecca's lap.

Sara turned to look at him, frowning. "No… not quite…" she sighed. "I analyze crime scenes… to figure out what happened…"

"You're still one of them!" Mr. Green again grinned, running towards the vault. "Mustard, things have changed!" he smiled, holding his gun steady on Sara.

"What's wrong…?" Colonel Mustard asked, running out of the vault, with Ronald just ahead of him.

"Hat-lady works for the law enforcement people…" Mr. Green told him. "She's one of them…" he told his boss.

Colonel Mustard raised an eyebrow, glancing at Sara. "Is that so…?" he asked, stepping closer to her. "So you know all of those people out there…?"

"No… not exactly…" Sara grimaced, rubbing her neck.

"But some of them…?" he persisted.

"I… didn't really look around… I don't know who's out there…" she replied, glancing at the ground.

"But it would stand to reason that you know a couple of the detectives… and your friends will be watching, too…?"

"I… guess so…" Sara swallowed, not liking where this was going.

"Then call one of the detectives…" he told her. "You have a cell phone on you, I know that you do…" he added, holding his gun on her.

With a sigh, Sara slowly reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone. "What… do you want me to say to them…?"

Colonel Mustard chuckled, thinking things through. "What's your name?" he finally asked her.

Sara rolled her eyes, staring down at her vest. "Sidle," she pointed out her name. "Sara Sidle."

"Well, Sara Sidle," he smiled. "Tell the detective this," he grinned, writing something out on a piece of paper for her.

After reading the paper, Sara's face paled. "I…don't want to…" she whispered.

"Unfortunately for you," Colonel Mustard told her, "You don't have a choice…" he added, cocking the gun. "Call. Now," he ordered.

With a frown, Sara slowly dialed Brass's number, waiting for him to pick up.

**Outside the bank**

Jim Brass's cell phone suddenly went off, shattering the eerie quietness of the atmosphere outside of the bank. Glancing down at the caller ID, Jim's sigh of annoyance quickly turned to a snort of surprise.

"What's wrong, Jim?" Sofia asked, standing beside him.

"It's Sara," he told her, glancing over at the command post. Quickly knocking on the door, Brass barged in, with Sofia right on his heels. "It's Sara," he told the detectives. "Or at least her phone… from inside the bank…" he trailed off.

"Well, answer it!" Moss told him.

Nodding, Brass slowly flipped open his phone, hitting the speaker phone button. "Hello…?" he hesitantly asked.

Sara's shaky voice filled the room. "Jim, it's me… Sara. I'm with the bank robbers, and they said that if you don't give them what they want, I will die, in five hours. There are ten hostages," she swallowed, "And they will kill two, every hour…and someone's already been shot!" she blurted out, without thinking.

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Do or Die

**A/N: **Thanks for your continued reviews and critiques!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Content Disclaimer:** I really don't know police procedures for responding to a bank robbery, and I don't know any law enforcement officers to talk to… If you happen to notice something glaringly wrong, please let me know, and I'll fix it!

**Title:** _Do or Die_

**Outside the bank**

"Sara, this is Ryan Moss, lead detective on this case, and the force's hostage negotiator. I'd like to speak to the person in the bank who is in charge..." he firmly said, frowning.

**Inside the bank**

"The police... want to talk to you..." Sara nervously whispered, looking up at Colonel Mustard.

Colonel Mustard grinned, taking the phone from her. "Hello, and whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" he politely asked, staring at the ceiling, as if deep in thought.

"Detective Ryan Moss," the detective told him. "And who is this?"

"You can call me Colonel," he replied with a small chuckle.

"Are you in the military?" Moss asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but I'm a Clue aficionado."

Moss frowned. Staring at the bank, he sighed. "Well, what is it that you'd like from us, Mr. Mustard?"

"_Colonel_ Mustard..." he corrected, glaring at Sara. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, he bit his lip. "What kind of idiots do you have working out there?" he asked the CSI.

Sara just stared at the ground, trying to hide the panic that was once again billowing up inside of her. "They're just... doing their jobs..." she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the chug-chug-chug of the bank's broken air conditioning unit.

Lifting the phone back up to his ear, Colonel Mustard growled. "Listen, buddy. Here's what we want. We're not that greedy... we'd like $750,000, wired to a special account in one of the banks in the Caymans. We also want transportation out of here... _safe_ transportation out of here," he added, stressing the word safe.

"I'm afraid we can't do that," Moss cautiously told him. "Not without the guarantee that the hostages are still safe…"

Quickly running over to Sara, and holding the phone up to her ear, he motioned for her to say something.

"This is…Sara…" she hesitantly said. "Aside from the… dead security guard, and the woman on the ground, we're all… okay…" she mumbled.

"See? They're all okay!" Colonel Mustard smiled. "So do we have a deal…?" he asked.

"I'll need to look into it," Moss cautiously told him. "It would go a long way if you released a couple of the hostages… And I definitely need more time…" he trailed off.

"Then I'm afraid you'll have two dead bodies within the hour. By the end of this whole day, Detective Moss, you'll need ten body bags…unless you give us what we want…" he added, immediately hanging up.

_Ten?_ Sara bit back the urge to question him. _Steve is already dead, and he makes one. Lonnie will... probably… die, and she makes two. There are ten more of us, so… who won't be dying? _she asked herself, frowning.

"Sara Sidle," Colonel Mustard hissed, "Get back over to the wall… now…" he told her, pointing his gun at her.

Sara meekly nodded, slowly moving back towards the remaining hostages. Swallowing, she glanced around the room, trying to make eye contact with as many of her fellow captives as she possibly could. Most of the hostages were staring at the ground, however, clearly terrified of what was going on.

When Sara met Timothy's gaze, he cautiously crawled towards her. "Hey, buddy," she whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Are you… doing okay…?" she quietly asked him, gently rubbing his arm.

Timothy just nodded, sticking his thumb in his mouth.

"We're… going to get out of this, Timmy…" she told him. _I just don't know how_.

**Outside the bank**

"Then I'm afraid you'll have two dead bodies within the hour. By the end of this whole day, Detective Moss, you'll need ten body bags…unless you give us what we want…" Colonel Mustard said into the phone, before immediately cutting the connection.

"Damn it!" Moss shouted.

"Oh, hell…" Brass frowned, taking his phone back from the other man, and closing it.

"Alright." Putting his hands on his hips, Moss surveyed the scene. Shielding his eyes, he glanced up at the buildings surrounding the bank, nodding to himself. Then glancing at the barricades, he loudly sighed.

"What…?" Brass nervously asked, scratching his head. He didn't like the look on Moss's face.

"I'm going to place snipers on the roofs of the building across the street from the bank…" he told Brass. "Just… in case… and SWAT is ready to go…" Turning to look at several uniformed officers, he rubbed his chin. "I want those barricades pushed back even further," he ordered. "And see if you can get the people out of here. We don't need… other casualties…" he frowned. _Or witnesses, for that matter_.

"So that's it?" Brass coldly asked him. "You're just going to give up…?"

"No, of course not," Moss replied, shaking his head. "I'm going to try talk to them again…reason with them. I need Sidle's phone number, though," he added, looking over at Brass.

Brass just nodded, as he scribbled Sara's cell phone number down, handing it over to Moss. "I hope you know what you're doing…" he muttered, returning his gaze to the bank.

**CBS News, anchor desk**

"Again, if you are just now joining us, we are reporting live from the First National Bank on Lindale Avenue, where a robbery is currently in progress. We still don't know much," Renee told the viewers, "Except that the hostage who we just saw a moment ago is actually a criminalist for the Las Vegas crime lab."

Glancing down at her notes, Renee looked up at the television monitor in front of her. "Right now, your television screens are showing you an outside image of the bank. The bank is obviously cordoned off, and the police are not allowing traffic anywhere near Lindale. And so far, the police have not released whatever information they currently have. We don't know how many bank robbers there actually are, the condition of the hostages, or what the robbers are even after."

Frowning into the camera, Renee sighed. "Please keep your stations tuned to CBS News. We will continue to provide you with up to the minute, live coverage, throughout the duration of this terrifying act of aggression."

**In the lab**

"This is bullshit," Warrick announced to his colleagues, slamming his fist down on the table. "Absolute bullshit…"

"Warrick… I know that you're worried about Sara," Grissom quietly told him. "We all are, but…"

"But what, Gris?" he angrily asked. "What?"

"But try to remain calm…" Grissom replied with a sigh, knowing that they were all starting to feel a little bit anxious.

Nick stared at the television screen, trying to squint. "What… uh… what's going on over there?" he swallowed, trying to get rid of the bile forming in his stomach.

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked, her hands still wrapped around her now cold mug of coffee.

Nick simply pointed to the television, unable to explain what was troubling him...aside from the whole bank robbery itself.

"Look to the side…and up…" Greg whispered, his face suddenly paling.

"I don't see—" Catherine started to say, before stopping herself in mid-sentence.

Warrick squinted, trying to see what everyone else was seeing. "Are those… snipers?" he asked, his feelings of powerlessness beginning to come back. "Tell me those aren't snipers?" he repeated, pushing back his chair, and standing up.

"Warrick…" Grissom frowned, biting his lip. "They always put snipers on the roof… and… have SWAT standing by…"

Greg swallowed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"This is bullshit…" Warrick angrily repeated.

**Outside the bank**

"Brass, Curtis, you're with me," Moss told the two detectives, bounding back up the stairs to the command post.

Sofia flashed Jim a confused look, before shrugging, and following the other man into the command center.

Moss sat down at the table, taking a look at Sara's phone number. "You two know Sara, so… I am assuming that you will be able to pick up on any hidden messages that she might try to give us…"

Jim nodded, looking up at the detective in charge. "Do you really think that they are going to let you talk to her, though? Because I sure as hell don't…"

"I don't know," Moss replied, putting the command post's phone on speaker, and dialing Sara's cell phone number.

**Inside the bank**

_Shit, what is that? _Sara jumped, wildly glancing around the room. _Is that my cell phone…? _she asked herself, quickly swallowing, and holding onto Timothy even more tightly.

"Oh, Sara Sidle!" Colonel Mustard grinned at her, beckoning at her with his gun. "I think your friends are on the line…" he told her, holding up the ringing phone. "Why don't you bring your pretty little body over here, in case we need you for something?" he asked, slowly opening up the phone. "One moment please!" his sing-song voice answered, as he waited for Sara to get up.

"No, Sara!" Timothy whispered, once again trying to force her to hold onto him. "Don't leave me!'

Without hesitating, Rebecca reached over, and plucked Timothy out of Sara's lap. "You're okay, little guy…" she quietly told him, gently running her fingers through his hair. "It's okay…" she repeated, over and over again. "But Sara has to go…"

Albert, the seventy-year old man, suddenly snapped his head up. "Don't tell him that everything will be okay!" he hissed at Rebecca. "Because everything is _not _going to be okay!" he added. "You heard that man! Two of us are going to die, every hour, until we're all dead!"

Rebecca glared at Albert, frowning. "Stop it," she told him. "Just stop it, you're scaring him!" she yelled, trying to cover Timothy's ears with her hands. "It'll be okay…" she whispered, finally removing her hands from his ears, and wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Just stay in my lap..."

Timothy swallowed, burying his head against Rebecca's chest, and softly sobbing

"Sidle! You heard the boss!" Professor Plum finally hissed at her, running towards her, and pointing his gun in her direction. "Let's go!"

"I'm coming!" Sara screamed, bolting up, and quickly moving towards Colonel Mustard.

Colonel Mustard just grinned, finally answering the phone. "Is this Detective Moss…?" he asked.

**Outside the bank**

"Yes, it is…" Moss carefully replied. "Colonel, we're working on your demands, but we need more time…" he hesitantly said. "We have a helicopter being prepared for you now, but getting the money is taking a little bit more time than we expected it would…"

"I don't think so," Colonel Mustard said into the phone. "You know as well as I do that First National has immediate access to millions of dollars… what with the casinos right in town, and all…"

"That's true," Moss frowned, staring across the table at Jim and Sofia. "But it is taking time for the Board of Directors to get their hands on the money itself…"

"Well you have fifteen minutes left," Colonel Mustard cut him off. "I suggest that they get crackin'…" he added, abruptly hanging up the phone.

"Shit…" Brass mumbled under his breath.

**Inside the bank**

"You don't have to do this…" Sara quietly whispered to Colonel Mustard. "Please… just let them go… I'll stay behind with you…"

"As tempting as that sounds," Colonel Mustard smiled, checking his watch, "I'm afraid that that just isn't a good enough solution. They know what needs to be done in order to save your lives… and they have fifteen minutes—no, fourteen minutes—in which to do it in."

Sara swallowed, closing her eyes. _God, I feel so dizzy. I'm sc scared… what's going to happen to all of us? _Slowly opening her eyes back up again, Sara stared at the ceiling, desperately trying not to sway from the force of her fear and panic.

"It's hard, huh?" Professor Plum asked her, from beside Colonel Mustard.

"What is?" Sara whispered, afraid to meet either of their unwavering gazes.

"Staring death right in the face…"

Sara again swallowed, trying not to shake.

"Alright, folks," Colonel Mustard sighed, staring at his watch. "Only five minutes to go." Slowly meandering towards the hostages, he frowned. "Does anyone want to volunteer…?" he asked. "I need two volunteers…"

Albert stared at the ground, refusing to make eye contact.

Rebecca held Timothy in her lap, gently rubbing his arm.

"I'll volunteer…" Sara quietly told Colonel Mustard, still standing in the middle of the bank.

"You're last, Sara Sidle, but thank you for the offer," he replied, smiling at her for a moment. "No, it has to be two other people…"

When no one volunteered, Colonel Mustard sighed, grabbing Jennifer Armstrong from the wall. Jennifer, who had been visiting the bank with her husband, Aaron, immediately started to cry.

"Please, no…" Aaron whispered. "Leave my wife alone… take me, instead…" he quietly said, standing up, and shoving his wife out of the way.

"Fine by me!" Colonel Mustard replied, pointing his gun at Aaron. "Let's go… oh, and you, too, little boy," he added, walking towards Timothy.

But before Timothy could utter a sound, Rebecca stood up. "No, I volunteer…" she said, trying to hold back a sniffle, and shaking with fear.

Colonel Mustard shrugged, pointing towards the back of the bank. "Let's go," he told them both, leading them back towards the vault. Grabbing his phone, he hit re-dial, as he continued to guide the two terrified captives away.

**Outside the bank**

The moment that the command post's phone began to ring, Moss picked it up. "More time," he immediately told Colonel Mustard. "Please, we need more time!"

"I'm afraid that your time is up…" Colonel Mustard replied.

Clear as day, the sound of two gun shots filled the small confines of the command post.

"SHIT!" Brass yelled, jumping up.

Sofia stared at the ground, words failing her.

"I'll be talking with you soon, Detective Moss," Colonel Mustard's voice calmly said. "You have a pleasant day, now!"

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. The Riddle

**A/N: **Thanks for your continued reviews and critiques!

---------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. The riddle came from leisureideas dot com/riddles.htm.

**Title: **The Riddle

_---------------_

**Inside the bank**

"NO!" Jennifer screamed, as she heard two gun shots ring out. "No!" she repeated, sobbing. "I can't believe you did that…" she moaned, burying her head in her hands, as her body shook with the force of her sobs. "Aaron… Aaron, I'm so sorry… it's all my fault… if I hadn't decided that I wanted to buy a house, we wouldn't have been in the bank today… God, Aaron…" she mumbled, as she started to cry even harder.

"You sick bastards…" Sara choked out, her vision blurring as hot tears stung her eyes. Stumbling toward the other hostages, she threw herself down next to Timothy, pulling him into her lap. "You're all sick…" she repeated, as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, almost suffocating him.

"Sara…?" Timothy whispered, his face deathly pale. "If I promise to be a good boy, will they stop…?" he quietly asked. "'Cause… I'll be a good boy if they stop scaring everyone…" he wailed, turning around to bury his head against Sara's shoulder. "Tell them, okay, Sara? Please…?" he added.

"Shh, Timmy…" Sara quietly replied, swallowing. "Shh…"

"How'd you all like that…?" Colonel Mustard asked, strolling back into the bank's lobby. "I certainly enjoyed it… as I'm sure you all did. Sara Sidle, get over here," he then said, once again pointing his gun at her. "You have a phone call to make…"

"No…" Sara mumbled. "I'm done with your sick and twisted games."

"Oh, yeah?" Mustard asked, raising an eyebrow. "Okay," he shrugged, quickly walking over toward Timothy, and ripping him out of her arms.

"Okay, okay!" Sara shouted, instantly jumping up, and frowning. "Just leave him alone!" she hissed, holding her hand out for the phone.

"As you wish," Colonel Mustard replied, a huge grin on his face.

"And what am I saying this time…?" she mumbled.

"Just…be yourself!" he chuckled.

---------------

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

Brass swallowed, trying to process what he had just heard. "I can't believe they… I can't believe they did that…" he quietly told Sofia, balling one of his hands up into a fist, and staring at the ceiling. "Jesus… these guys are serious…"

"Yes… it would appear that they are…" Sofia replied, her face contorted into a look of shock.

All of a sudden, Jim's cell phone went off, causing every officer in the command post to freeze.

"It's from Sara's phone," Brass sighed, glancing down at the caller ID. "Who wants it…?"

"Give it to me…" Moss ordered.

Nodding, Jim handed his phone over to Moss, who opened it up, and put it on speaker. "Hello…?" he tentatively asked. Complete silence. "Hello…?" he repeated.

"It's…me…" Sara's shaky voice filled the room. "God damn it, they really did it…" she whispered, her voice shaking, right along with her entire body. "Jim? They really did it… we heard the shots… they did it!" she repeated over and over again, her panic increasing with each word. "DO SOMETHING!" she yelled into the phone, trying to fight back her tears. "Please… just do something… before it's too late…" she whispered, knowing that they were already doing everything in their power to help, and that her phone call was probably not making anything any easier for anyone in the command post. But Sara was officially terrified, and in the process of having a major anxiety attack. "There's so many people in here… we don't want to die, Jim," she again tried to swallow her panic, on the verge of losing control. "Please don't let them kill us…"

Jim swallowed, listening to Sara speak. Although she was certainly emotional by nature, he could tell how scared she truly was. "Sara… we're… trying our best…" he quietly told her. "Just… hang in there…"

"Hang in there?" Sara questioned him, sarcasm dripping off of every word. "You want us to hang in there?" she repeated, a bit more loudly. "Jim, they've already killed four people! They're not going to stop, until we're all dead!"

Suddenly, the voice on the other end of the phone changed. "Thirty minutes, boys," Colonel Mustard informed them. "And if you don't plan on having the money for us, we'll take some dinner… along with two more body bags," he trailed off, before the line went dead.

---------------

**Inside the bank**

"Good job, Sara," Colonel Mustard approvingly told her. "That was the perfect blend of absolute terror and tears. I couldn't have scripted it any better for you, myself…"

Sara just glared at him, before looking down at the ground. "You won't get away with this…" she whispered. "Even if you kill all of us, you won't get away with it. My friends will process this scene after you're gone, and they'll nail your asses to the wall…" she informed off, a look of fierce determination once again gracing her features.

"Is that a fact?" Mr. Green asked her, waving his gun in her face. "Well, we're wearing gloves and masks, so they won't be able to trace anything that we're doing."

"Don't be so sure…" Sara mumbled. "They're smart. A helluva lot smarter than all of you."

Colonel Mustard just laughed. "Would you like to play a game with me, Sara?" he asked her. "I like you, so… I'm going to give you this opportunity. If you're interested, of course," he amended.

Sara just continued to glare at the man, refusing to speak.

"It's easy," he told her. "You think that you and your friends are so smart… if you can answer a riddle correctly… I will let you make one five minute phone call to a friend."

Sara bit her lip, frowning. "And if I get it wrong?"

"Then you go back and sit along the wall… you still get to live for at least another four hours," he reminded her.

"What's the riddle…?" Sara hesitantly asked, her heart starting to beat faster.

Colonel Mustard grinned, rubbing his hands together. "It's a long one, so listen closely. 'A sheik announced that a race would decide which of his two sons would inherit all his wealth. The sons were to ride their camels to a certain distant city. The son whose camel reached the city last would be given all of the sheik's wealth. The two sons set out on the journey. After several days of aimless wandering, they met, and agreed to seek the advice of a wiseman. After listening to the wiseman's advice, the two sons rode the camels as quickly as possible to the designated city. What was it that the wiseman told the two sons? They did not agree to split the wealth, and their father's decree would be followed.'"

Sara frowned, staring at the ground. "Damn it…" she mumbled. _Shit! I don't know the answer! What could he have possibly said to them? _she asked herself, staring at the ceiling and trying to think.

"Can I… help her…?" Jennifer whispered, picking her head up from her hands. "Can I… tell her the answer…?"

"Sure," Colonel Mustard told her. "I don't really care, one way or the other…"

"Sara," Jennifer whispered, "The wiseman told them to switch camels… and ride as quickly as possible," she told her, swallowing.

Sara raised an eyebrow. _Hmm… interesting. _"So… can I make my phone call now…?" she asked, once again frowning, and refusing to make eye contact with any of the bank robbers.

In answer, Colonel Mustard just tossed her her cell phone. "Who are you going to call…?" he curiously asked.

"A friend," Sara mumbled, slightly relieved.

---------------

**CBS News, anchor desk**

Renee stared at the television monitor in front of her, frowning. "As of right now, we still have no idea what these bank robbers are actually looking for," she intoned. "The police have informed us that the criminals _have _made some demands, although they refuse to tell us what those demands actually are. We can only assume, however, that the police are doing everything in their power to—" she started to say, stopping in mid-sentence. Pushing her finger against her ear, Renee listened to someone off camera, as her face suddenly drained of all color. "Folks, I regret to inform you that we have shots fired in the bank…" she trailed off. "I repeat, shots have been fired in the bank…"

---------------

**In the lab**

Greg slowly stood up from the table, walking over to the coffee maker. Staring at the sludge that they were all drinking, he frowned, before digging into his special stash. Throwing it into the coffee maker, he sighed, waiting for it to percolate through the machine.

Warrick raised an eyebrow, staring at Greg, surprised that he was making the good stuff. He knew that the younger man was worried about Sara… hell, they all were. This just all still seemed so…surreal. And bank robberies… never ended well.

With a frown, Nick ran a shaky hand through his hair. "We have to… do something…" he announced.

"There's nothing that we _can _do, Nick…" Catherine pointed out, her hands still tightly wrapped around her mug of cold coffee.

"Except… sit here and worry about things…" Greg mumbled, waiting for the coffee to finish.

"There has to be _something _that we can do, Gris," Warrick spoke up, looking over at his supervisor.

"Every single law enforcement agent has officers at the bank," Grissom told them all with a sigh, looking around the table at his team. "They're… trying their best…" What he actually wanted to say was that the officers would find a way to get everyone out of the bank, but…he couldn't say it. He didn't know if that was going to happen.

"What's wrong with Renee?" Catherine suddenly asked the group, frowning, as the television anchorwoman's entire appearance just… changed.

Turning around to glance at the screen, Greg shrugged.

Renee's quiet voice once again filled the empty break room, delivering the words that made each and every CSI shudder. "Folks, I regret to inform you that we have shots fired in the bank…" she trailed off. "I repeat, shots have been fired in the bank…"

"Shit!" Warrick yelled, punching the able. Moments later, when his cell phone trilled, Warick frowned. _Who's calling? We're all here…and Tina is gone_. With a sigh, he glanced at the caller ID, his eyes bulging. "It's coming from Sara's phone!" he shouted, jumping up.

"What…?" Nick asked, squinting. "That's… impossible…"

"It's not impossible," Grissom spoke up. "It's just highly improbable."

Without hesitation, Warrick answered his phone. "Sara…?"

---------------

**In the bank**

"…Warrick?" Sara whispered, trying to swallow her fear.

"Time's a tickin', Sara," Colonel Mustard pointed out with a grin. "Four minutes and forty-five seconds remaining…"

Sara tightly closed her eyes, holding back her tears. "Warrick…I'm not ready to die..." _So listen up to what I'm about to say, and figure this out...before it's too late._

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED 


	7. Will This Ever End?

**A/N: **Ya know, I really appreciate everyone taking the time to read and review this fic… as I've said in the past, your reviews keep me motivated to keep on writing! And thanks to Ann, for random info about Sara!

---------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_Will This Ever End?_

_---------------_

**Inside the bank**

"Warrick… I'm not ready to die," Sara repeated, her eyes still tightly closed. "I'm so scared, but…" she sniffled, trying to take a deep breath, "But… it's not time…" she told him, barely above a whisper.

Back in the break room, Warrick ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I know, Sara," he replied. "We're going to get you out of there…" _I just…don't know…how._

"Four minutes and thirty seconds to go," Colonel Mustard grinned, interrupting her conversation. "Oh, and let's put you on speaker phone, just in case you try anything sneaky," he added, reaching over and grabbing the phone from her hands. Hitting the button, he smiled, handing the entire phone back to her.

"Shove it up your—"

"I can always make it no minutes," he replied with a shrug.

Sara, for her part, just returned her attention to Warrick. "I'm scared…" she finally admitted, swallowing. "What if… what if we don't get out of here, Warrick? They've already killed four people…" she trailed off.

Warrick frowned. "Damn it, Sara… I don't… I don't know what to say to you, to make it better…" he whispered, standing up in the break room, and pacing around the table.

"Warrick…?" Sara softly asked, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. _I… was going to give you a message to help you get us out of here, but… I just don't know what to say!_

"What is it, Sara?" he asked her, squinting at the television set. He knew that she was on speaker phone, and he desperately wished that he could just…talk to her… alone.

"If I… if I… die," she struggled to say, "I want you to take care of… my… three cats, and my… one dog…" she sniffled, as the hot tears slid down her cheeks. _There are four bank robbers in here_.

Warrick frowned. "Your… three cats…? And… one dog…?" he hesitantly asked, completely confused. "Of course, Sara…" he finally told her. "Of course…" _Okay. Sara doesn't own a pet, so…. there are either four bank robbers, or four hostages._

Sara bit her lip, staring at the ground. "I… want to know that they'll be taken care of…. even if I'm…gone…" she sighed, once again swallowing. "Please… take care of them… just in case I… die…" she whispered.

"You're not going to die, Sara…. and we're going to kick their asses, don't you worry about that…" he told her, trying to remain calm… for Sara's sake. But in actuality, he felt terrified for her.

"Three minutes, Sara," Colonel Mustard again interrupted her.

"Sara…?" Warrick then asked. "Do you remember when we rode the roller coaster together…?"

"Yes…?" she replied, whispering.

"You were terrified, and kept saying that you were going to fall out…do you remember?" he continued, sitting back down at the table, his fingers anxiously drumming on his knees.

"I remember…" Sara told him, her voice even softer.

"What happened, Sara…?"

"You… wrapped your arm around my shoulders… and pulled me close…" she mumbled, starting to sniffle.

"Yes, I did…" Warrick confirmed. "And…?"

"And… you told me that everything would be okay, and that…" she swallowed, starting to feel dizzy.

"And what, Sara…?" he quietly prodded her.

"And that you wouldn't let me get hurt…" she added, as more tears started to slide down her cheeks.

"That's right, Sara…" Warrick told her, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "That's right… and what happened…?"

"Nothing…" she whispered, taking a deep breath, and trying to slowly let it out. "You kept me safe… but how…?" she asked, as she started to cry harder. "How can you do that now…?" her voice trailed off.

"One minutes, Sara Sidle," Colonel Mustard interrupted her.

"I'm going to try, Sara… I'm going to try to get you out of there…" he whispered.

"Oh, Sara…." Mr. Green smiled, walking over towards her. "You don't look so happy right now…" he told her, quickly snaking an arm around her shoulders.

"GET YOUR ARM OFF OF ME!" Sara immediately screamed, forgetting that she was still talking to Warrick.

"Sara…? Sara, what's going on?" Warrick asked, bouncing up again. "GET YOUR ARM OFF OF HER!" he then yelled into the phone.

But the phone went dead.

"Get away from her," Colonel Mustard frowned at his colleague. "What the hell is wrong with you? We don't have time for this," he added, shoving Mr. Green back towards the vault. "Go get ready…. and Sara? Back to the wall!" he told her, pointing his gun in her general direction.

Still sobbing, Sara shakily walked back to Timothy, sitting down against the wall.

Crawling into her lap, Timothy stuck his thumb in his mouth, silently crying. "It'll be okay, Sara… the man that you were talking to told you so…" he pointed out.

_Not quite_, Sara wanted to say. _He said he'd try to help...Will this ever end?_

---------------

**In the lab**

Greg frowned, listening to Warrick's end of the conversation. _Of all of the people here, why… did she call you? When… did you two start getting it on?_ he curiously asked himself.

"Sara…?" Warrick then spoke up. "Do you remember when we rode the roller coaster together…?"

_Interesting_, Catherine thought to herself. _Sara and Warrick…? I never would have guessed it_…

"You were terrified, and kept saying that you were going to fall out…do you remember?" he continued, sitting back down at the table, his fingers drumming on his knees.

Nick stared at the table, thinking things through. _Good for you, man…_ he thought to himself. _Good for both of you. You both deserve happiness, although… this bank robbery… doesn't help._

"What happened, Sara…?" Warrick glanced at the ceiling, before closing his eyes.

"Yes, I did…" Warrick confirmed. "And…? And what, Sara…?" he quietly prodded her.

_You two… rode a roller coaster together…? Have you been… seeing one another? _Grissom thought to himself, biting his lip. _How do I never know these things…?_

"That's right, Sara…" Warrick told her, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "That's right… and what happened…?" And then after a moment, "I'm going to try, Sara… I'm going to try to get you out of there…" he whispered.

Taking a sip of her coffee, Catherine sighed. This wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.

"Sara…? Sara, what's going on?" Warrick asked, bouncing up again. "GET YOUR ARM OFF OF HER!" he then yelled into the phone. "SHIT!" he screamed, throwing the phone against one of the break room's walls, where it landed on the couch, almost, but not quite, shattering it to pieces.

"Warrick, you need to take a deep breath, man," Nick quietly said, standing up. "You need to take a deep breath, or you won't be able to help her… when we get her out of there."

"Did she have anything important to say, Warrick…?" Grissom spoke up, steepling his hands in front of his face.

Warrick swallowed, slowly sitting back down. "Four people are dead… and I think… that there are four bank robbers…"

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that…?" she asked him.

"She said something about three cats and a dog, and… taking care of them, after she… dies…" he mumbled.

Grissom immediately picked up his phone, calling Brass.

---------------

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

Jim once again jumped, as his phone started ringing. Glancing at the caller ID, he frowned, picking it up. "What is it, Gil?" he asked.

"Sara just called Warrick, Jim. She said something about three cats and a dog…"

Jim looked up at Moss, puzzled. "First of all, why did they let her call someone? And second of all, she doesn't own any pets…does she…?"

"I don't know why she called him, and no, Jim… she doesn't own any pets. She told Warrick to make sure to take care of them, even after she's… gone…"

"Could that mean that there are… four bank robbers in there…?"

"I… think so…" Grissom hesitated. "I think that's what she was trying to say…"

"Thank you, Gil," Jim told him, hanging up. "Detective Moss? We're dealing with four criminals."

---------------

**In the bank**

"We're almost ready back here," Mr. Green said, slowly walking back into the lobby. Waving his gun around, he glanced at the clock. "Is it time, Mustard?"

"It is indeed…" Colonel Mustard replied, glancing at the hostages. "Whose turn…?" he asked with a grin.

"Screw you!" Sara yelled, tightening her grip on Timothy.

"Sara, Sara, Sara," he mumbled, glancing around at the remaining captives. "Jennifer, I think it's time you joined your husband," he said, stooping down, and yanking her arm. "And why don't we go with you, Ronald?" he asked, moving toward the bank's manager. "Nice and easy, this time…" he grinned, pushing them both back toward the vault. Then picking up Sara's phone, he dialed Brass's number, waiting.

"Leave me alone!" Jennifer whispered, starting to cry. "Please, just leave us all alone!"

"God damn you!" Ronald hissed, as he was dragged away to the back of the bank.

Albert stared at the ground, thankful that it wasn't him, and…Timothy just continued to cry, as Sara rocked him back and forth.

---------------

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

"It's them…" Jim announced, handing his phone back to Moss.

Moss nodded, picking it up. "Hello…?"

"Do you have the money…?" Colonel Mustard immediately asked.

"We're working on it!" Moss told him. "We just need a little bit more time!"

"Sorry, I'm afraid not…you now have another hour to work with," Colonel Mustard sighed, as two more gunshots filled the air. "We'll take some assorted subs, please…" he said into the phone. "Subs for ten, so that we have some leftovers…we'll send Sara out in fifteen minutes to collect them. Thank you!" he said, before hanging up.

"SHIT!" Brass again yelled, as he watched Moss slam the phone down.

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED 


	8. Motive

**A/N: You know… I can't thank you all enough for your comments. They really mean a lot to me, and they keep me going! Oh, and thanks to Ann, who unfortunately just listened to me spill the entire ending. Sorry… but thanks, I feel better!**

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And I'm sure that the First National Bank is a great bank! This is complete fiction.

**Title: **_Motive_

_---------------_

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

"Shit!" Moss screamed, slamming his fist down on the table. "What the hell! That's it, this is ridiculous!" he screamed, storming out of the command post. "Who the _hell _are these people, and what do they want?" he yelled to nobody in particular. "Get them their damn subs!" he then screamed.

---------------

**Inside the bank**

Sara silently cried, the tears streaming down her face. "Why… why are you doing this…?" she whispered to Wadsworth, who was standing pretty close to her. "Why are you doing this…?" she repeated, now rocking both herself and Timothy.

"Because we want the money, Sara," Colonel Mustard told her, slowly walking toward her. "We want the money, and the cops won't give it to us." Kneeling down in front of her, he frowned. "What… do you know about the First National Bank?" he asked her.

"Wh-what…?" Sara whispered. "Wh-what do you mean…?" she asked, too afraid to make eye contact with the man.

"What do you know about this bank…?" he repeated his question for her.

"Nothing…" Sara swallowed, looking at the ground.

Looking over at the two remaining bank tellers, Colonel Mustard read their name tags. "Shannon? Susan?" he asked. "Do you know what your fantastic bank does...?" he calmly asked them, slightly smiling.

"N-no!" Shannon immediately replied, swallowing.

Susan remained quiet, her face paling. _No… not really…maybe…_

Colonel Mustard frowned, watching Susan's response. "You know, don't you…?" he asked her. "You know, and yet… you still work here…?" he hissed.

Susan just lowered her head, trying not to cry… or to scream.

Turning back to Sara, Colonel Mustard bit his lip. "I realize that all banks are in existence to make money. Banks are businesses, and the bank owners need to make a profit. But that being said," he told Sara, still kneeling in front of her, "Banks deal with people… people who need money for things… such as food… or shelter… or medicine…" he swallowed, almost losing his composure for a moment. "And this bank is the worst of them all… they deny people just for fun, with no basis for the denial..."

_What… are you talking about? _Sara wondered to herself, quizzically looking up at him. _Did… something happen to you…because of a bank…? Is that your…motive…?_

"Mustard… they don't need to hear about all of this…" Wadsworth quietly told him, gently resting a hand on his arm. "Just… let it go…"

Colonel Mustard nodded, tiredly pointing his gun at Sara. "It's been fifteen minutes. Get up, and go outside for the subs…" he gruffly told her. "They better be there, too…" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, noticing that his headache was progressively getting worse.

Sara nodded, slowly lifting Timothy off of her lap, and setting him back down on the floor. "Okay…" she sighed.

"Sara…?" Timothy whispered, his lower lip starting to quiver. "Please don't leave me! I'm scared!" he wailed.

"It'll be okay, Timmy… I'll be right back," she softly told him, slowly walking toward the front of the bank.

Colonel Mustard, right on her heels, stopped just to the left side of the main entrance, staring out the tinted glass at the waiting police officers beyond the barricade.

With another sigh, followed by a half frown, Sara slowly pushed through the doors, squinting as her eyes reacted to the glare from all of the flood lights. Swallowing, and still thinking about young, inexperienced cops, firing on her body from twenty different locations, Sara closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. _They're not going to shoot you… they know you… they're not going to do anything to you_… she told herself, over and over again. Taking one step forward, Sara frowned, searching the ground for the subs. When she didn't see them sitting there, she panicked, starting to turn around.

"Wait!" Ryan Moss called out, walking toward her with three large bags. "I have the subs… and some sodas… I'm going to bring them to you, okay…?" he asked, slowly moving in her direction.

"Just… just set the bags down on the ground!" Sara anxiously told him, waiting for him to do so.

"Okay… are you okay, Sara?" he then asked, gently setting the food down on the ground, and taking a step backwards.

"No, I'm not okay! None of us are okay! Get them the money!" she yelled, trying to blink back her tears. "Before we're all dead!" she added, glancing down at the food. _I'm not hungry… how can I eat? There's no way…_ frowning, she took a deep breath, and took a step toward the food.

"It'll be okay, Sara," Moss quietly told her. But that was a lie, and he knew it. Nothing would ever be okay. Not for the people trapped inside of the bank, nor their families.

Bending down to pick up the food, Sara sniffled. "Ask Warrick about the first time that we kissed…" she whispered to Moss, straightening up, and shuffling back toward the bank.

"What…?" Moss asked her, puzzled.

But Sara couldn't say anything else, as the doors to the bank suddenly opened wide for her. Slipping back inside, she sighed. "Here's your food…" she mumbled to Colonel Mustard, dropping the bags on the floor, and quickly running back to Timothy's side. The moment that Sara sat down, Timothy crawled into her lap, once again shoving his thumb in his mouth.

---------------

**CBS News, anchor desk**

"Once again, folks, for those of you just now joining us, we are live at the First National Bank on Lindale Avenue, covering a robbery in progress," Renee reported. "So far, we still do not know what is happening inside the bank, although we have reports of multiple shots fired… and of course, just a short while ago, we witnessed Detective Ryan Moss storm out of the command post. Other then that, the police have yet to tell us anything, and—" she started to say, before stopping. "Wait a moment, folks," she quietly interrupted herself, again listening to someone off camera. "Yes, we have Sara Sidle, one of the hostages, once again emerging from the bank." Glancing at the monitor in front of her, Renee collected her thoughts. "She appears to be picking something up from the ground… food, perhaps? And is now returning to the bank…" Taking a sip of her water, Renee added, "We should hopefully have some more answers to your questions within the hour… please keep your station tuned to CBS News!"

---------------

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

After delivering the food, Moss quickly jogged back to the command post, flinging the door wide-open. "Who's Warrick?" he immediately asked Jim, startling the other detective.

"Warrick is another CSI," Jim calmly told him. "And I believe that he and Sara are seeing one another…"

"Sara said to ask him about their first kiss… let's call him," Moss sighed, sitting down across from the other detective.

Jim just nodded, flipping open his phone, and calling Warrick.

---------------

**In the lab**

"I can't handle this, Grissom…" Warrick muttered, once again standing up to pace around the room. "I need to be doing something…"

"There's nothing that you _can _do, Warrick…" Greg told him, once again refilling Catherine's mug with fresh coffee. "Not yet, anyhow… not until we get her out of there…"

"'We?'" Warrick asked Greg. "'_We're_' not doing anything, Greg! That's the problem!" he yelled, his voice rising in anger.

"Calm down, Rick," Nick quietly said. "I know that you're worried… we all are… but you need to calm down…"

"I can't, man," Warrick mumbled, taking a seat at the table, and burying his head in his hands.

With a frown, Catherine set her mug down, slowly stood up, and moved to the empty chair beside Warrick. Sighing, she gently layed a friendly hand on his shoulder, glancing down at the floor. _I wish that I could tell you that everything will be okay, Warrick, but I can't… we both know that I can't make that promise…_

"There are good people working on this case, Warrick…" Grissom quietly spoke up, as he glanced up at the television set.

"Sara's coming out!" Greg suddenly announced, setting the hot coffee pot back on its stand. "Look, Sara's coming out!"

Warrick's head immediately snapped up, as he watched her bend down to pick something up. "Is that… a bag of some sort?" he quietly asked the room full of CSIs.

"I… think so…" Catherine mused, her hand still on his shoulder. "Food, perhaps…?"

Warrick just frowned, as he watched Sara's body disappearing back into the bank. "Shit…" he mumbled. And moments later, when his phone went off, Warrick quickly picked it up, yelling, "Sara? Sara, is that you?"

---------------

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

"Sara? Sara, is that you?" Warrick's panicked voice filled the small confines of the command post.

"No, I'm sorry, Rick, it's me, Jim. You're on speaker phone, and…I have a question for you… are you ready?"

"Yeah… go ahead…"Warrick sadly replied.

"Sara just told Detective Moss to ask you about your first kiss with her… what can you tell us?"

Warrick swallowed, trying to think back. "Our first kiss?" he questioned Jim. "But…Why…?"

"I don't know, Rick… it's probably important… she wouldn't have asked us to talk to you about it, if it wasn't. What can you tell us about it…?"

"We… rented The Grudge," Warrick quietly told him. "And… she got scared… or… she pretended to be scared, at the very least. But when the movie ended, we kissed… that's it… that's all that happened…"

"The Grudge…?" Moss asked him, staring at the ceiling. "Motive…?" he simply asked the other detectives in the command post. "Could their motive have to do with holding a grudge against the bank…?"

"Thank you, Warrick…" Brass sighed. "That was… helpful…we'll keep you posted… hang in there," he added, as he hung up the phone.

Moss bit his lip, staring at the members of his team. "Someone pull all of the records of unhappy bank patrons from the past two years… denied mortgages, denied loans, whatever you can come up with. Let's see what we can find…"

---------------

**Inside the bank**

"Well, folks… I'm afraid it's just about that time," Colonel Mustard muttered, walking towards them. "I had hoped that the police would have cooperated by now, but…" he shrugged. "Susan and Shannon… let's go," he frowned, pointing his gun at them.

Susan just whimpered, refusing to move.

"I said, let's go!" he repeated a bit more harshly, dragging her up by the arm. "You, too, Shannon!" he yelled, grabbing her with his other hand. "Green, bring the phone with you, if you will…" he added, as he led the two women towards the vault.

Staring at the ceiling, the bank robber once again dialed Brass's cell phone.

--------------

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

"Don't answer it," Sofia swallowed. "And… maybe they won't do anything…" she told the other detectives in the command post.

"No, it doesn't work like that…" Moss frowned, as the phone continued to ring. "Just… give it to me…" he mumbled. "Hello…?" he reluctantly answered the phone.

Colonel Mustard's voice rang out loud and clear. "You know why I'm calling…"

"Listen, sir, I understand that you want the money… and we're working on it…"

"You leave me no choice…" Colonel Mustard sighed, as two more gunshots filled the air. "Why won't you people just give us what we want?" he angrily asked, as the line went dead.

"THAT'S IT!" Moss screamed. "GET THE SWAT TEAM READY, THEY'RE GOING IN… NOW!"

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	9. The End is Near

**A/N: I still can't thank all of you enough… I love getting your reviews and critiques! It makes me happy to know that people are reading this. Okay… two chapters remain. Breathe. That's all I'm going to say!**

---------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And I'm sure that the First National Bank is a great bank! This is complete fiction.

**Title: **_The End is Near_

_---------------_

**Inside the bank**

Walking out of the back area of the bank, Colonel Mustard scowled. "This is unbelievable!" he told the remaining hostages.

"What is?" Sara asked him, her tears leaving hot, stinging, wet trails down her cheeks. "Huh? Just _what _is so unbelievable? The fact that you've already killed eight people? Or the fact that you're planning on killing the remaining four of us? Or the fact that you're stuck in this stupid bank? Or the fact that the police have refused to give in to your asinine demands?" she practically yelled at him.

"Ma'am!" Albert hissed at her. "Do you want to get us all killed?" he asked, glaring at her. "Because I have a sick wife to get home to!"

"And I have a newborn baby to get home to!" Colette Anderson, one of the bank's financial consultants, whispered to her.

Timothy just continued to suck his thumb, his eyes glazed over with fear.

"Don't you get it?" Sara swallowed, making eye contact with Albert and Colette. "They're going to kill us anyhow! It doesn't matter _what _we do, because we're all going to die when this is said and done with!"

"They won't kill us!" Albert yelled at her. "We don't know what they look like! We don't know their names! We don't know anything about them!" he grumbled, putting his head in his hands. "I'm not going to die! I'm not!"

"Quit your complaining, all of you," Colonel Mustard angrily told them. "Because if the police had just given us the $750,000 that we asked for, none of this would have happened! None of it!"

Sara just bitterly laughed. "Right…and you would have just let us walk right on out of here…" she trailed off.

---------------

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

"You're… you're sending in SWAT?" Jim anxiously asked Moss. "How… are you going to protect the hostages?"

"At this point," Moss sighed, "The criminals aren't going to stop shooting… we know that there are at least ten hostages, as per Sara, and we know that at least six of them are already dead. I would rather that some of them live… wouldn't you?"

"No," Jim growled. "I'd rather that they _all_ live!" he yelled, standing up, and storming toward the door of the command post.

"Listen, Detective Brass, we're going to do our best to assure that the hostages remain safe… tear gas, rubber bullets, the whole nine yards. We'll do our best… that's all that I can promise," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Stepping out of the make-shift office, Jim frowned, staring up at the bank. _Poor Sara… poor hostages… why is this happening…?_ Glancing around himself, Jim once again sighed, spotting the members of the SWAT team getting into position.

"Okay, you give the order to go on my command," Detective Moss told Dudley Smith, the SWAT team leader.

Smith just nodded, motioning for his team to get ready.

---------------

**CBS News, anchor desk**

"Hour four of the bank stand-off, folks, and we are still no closer to understanding what is going on at the First National Bank. Who are the bank robbers? What do they want? The police have been tight-lipped about the entire event thus far, forcing reporters to make their own assumptions," she explained, stopping for a moment to take a sip of her water. Setting her glass back down on the anchor desk in front of her, Renee's entire countenance suddenly changed. Her grim expression turned into one of complete horror, as all of the color drained from her face. Putting her finger against her ear in order to better listen to the news director off camera, Renee just nodded. Taking a deep breath, she once again faced the cameras, swallowing. "Folks, we have some recent developments in the bank robbery. It would appear as if the SWAT team is being mobilized," she informed the viewers, as a picture of men and women in uniform running around filled the television screen.

---------------

**Inside the lab**

"How're ya holding up, Rick?" Nick quietly asked his friend, sitting down next to him.

"How do you think I'm doing…?" Warrick quickly shot back.

Nick just bit his lip, glancing around the room.

"I know, I know… I'm sorry, Nick. I just feel so… helpless," Warrick sighed.

"I do, too…" Greg mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. "I feel…"

"Nervous?" Catherine supplied for him. "Anxious? Upset? Terrified?"

"Yeah… any of those adjectives would work right about now," Greg sighed.

Grissom just continued to stare at the television screen, not liking what he was seeing. "We… have a…development…" he quietly told everyone, steepling his hands in front of his face.

"What…?" Warrick asked, his head immediately snapping up.

Grissom just pointed to the television.

"Please turn the volume back on, Grissom," Nick quietly requested, leaning forward in his seat.

Grissom's frown only increased, as he turned the volume back on.

"Folks," Renee's voice quietly said, "we have some recent developments in the bank robbery. It would appear as if the SWAT team is being mobilized." And sure enough, the image changed from her face, to that of police officers running around the outside of the bank, getting into some sort of a position.

Greg's jaw dropped, as he stared at the screen.

"Oh, no…" Catherine whispered, holding her coffee mug even tighter, eliminating all chances of it slipping from her sweaty palms.

"Shit!" Warrick shouted. "They can't do that! What about the hostages! Shit!" he repeated over and over again.

---------------

**Inside the bank**

Standing near one of the windows of the bank, Wadsworth stared at the police officers running around, a frown appearing on his face. "Mustard, how are the…preparations coming?" he asked his boss, slowly turning around to meet the other man's gaze.

"We just need a little bit more time… why?" he curiously asked.

Wadsworth just pointed out the window, stepping aside. "Take a look…" he whispered.

Colonel Mustard strode to the window, peering outside. "Oh, no…" he mumbled, glancing back at Mr. Green and Professor Plum. "We've run out of time, boys… SWAT is getting into position."

"Already?" Professor Plum incredulously asked. "But we need more time!"

Mr. Green handed his gun to Wadsworth, and sprinted toward the back of the bank. "I'll take care of it!" he told his partners, before disappearing through the doors.

"Sara, get over here," Colonel Mustard then said, glancing in Sara's direction. "Get over here, now…"

"Nuh-uh, don't do it, Sara!" Timothy advised her, sucking his thumb. "They're bad people, and you don't want to do it!"

"I know, honey," Sara quietly whispered, gently rubbing his arm. "But… I have to do what they say…" she added, noticing the gun pointed directly at Timothy's head. "I'll be right back, though," she told him, flashing him a very small smile.

"Good job, Sara," Colonel Mustard growled at her. "Now here… make a phone call…"

"What do you want me to say this time…?" Sara cautiously asked him, gingerly grasping the phone.

"Anything… keep them talking…" he ordered her.

Sighing, Sara dialed Brass's phone number.

---------------

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

Lost in his own world, Jim Brass immediately answered his phone, without even thinking. "Hello…?"

"Jim…?" Sara sniffled. "They know…"

"Sara…? They know…what…?" he hesitantly asked her.

"SWAT, Jim… they know about SWAT…"

All of a sudden, the phone went dead.

"Detective Moss? That was Sara, and they know! Move quickly!" Jim yelled, glancing over at the other man.

---------------

**Inside the bank**

Colonel Mustard screamed at Sara, ripping the phone out of her hand. "What are you doing? What the _hell _do you think you're doing?"

Sara remained quiet, walking back over to Timothy, and sitting down on the floor next to him.

"You shouldn't have done that…" Albert whispered to her. "Now you've really done it!"

Timothy just crawled back into Sara's lap, clinging to her body out of fear and desperation.

"They're going to kill us all anyhow," Sara replied, trying to steady her nerves.

"They might not have!" Colette sniffled, putting her head in her hands. "But now you've made sure that they do…"

"Let's go," Professor Plum growled, pointing his gun at Albert, Colette, Sara, and Timothy. "Let's go…" he repeated, forcing them all to stand up. "Actually, Sara… you can stay here," he changed his mind, running up to her, and ripping Timothy right out of her arms.

"Sara!" Timothy screamed. "SARA, DON'T LET THEM TAKE ME AWAY!" he wailed, as fresh tears started to spill down his cheeks. "SARA, PLEASE!"

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Sara yelled, immediately standing up, and running toward Professor Plum.

Professor Plum merely cocked his gun, pointing it at Sara. "Sit. Now," he ordered her.

"Why should I?" she hissed at him. "You're going to kill me anyhow, right?" she asked.

Without hesitation, Professor Plum whacked Sara over the head with his gun, smiling, as she crumpled to the ground. "Let's go, shall we?" he then asked the two adults, carrying Timothy in his arms, and leading them all toward the back of the bank.

With a relieved sigh, Mr. Green re-entered the lobby, grinning at Colonel Mustard. "We're good to go!" he told him. "It was hard, but we're good to go!"

"Really…?" Colonel Mustard hesitantly asked, skepticism in his voice.

"Yeah…take care of what you have to do, and then we'll get out of here…"

Nodding Colonel Mustard glanced down at Sara. "For whatever it's worth," he told her, "You've been a very big help…"

Sara just cried, gingerly touching the bruise forming on her head. "Well that's fantastic, thank you! I'm so glad to know that I could help you kill a lot of innocent people!"

With a sigh, Colonel Mustard slowly walked toward the back of the bank. "Keep an eye on her," he told Mr. Green.

Mr. Green just nodded.

One minute later, Colonel Mustard re-appeared, staring down at Sara. "And then there was one…"

"You… killed them…? You killed them all…?" she whispered, disbelief clearly written on her face. For all of her back talk, she really hadn't thought that he would kill Timothy. "The old man…? Timmy…?" she asked, as tears quickly started to slide down her cheeks. "You bastard!" she screamed at him. "I hope you rot in hell! I hope _all _of you rot in hell!"

Colonel Mustard just picked up Sara's phone, hitting redial. Once again pointing his gun at her, he sighed, motioning for her to move toward the back of the bank.

---------------

**Outside the bank, near the command post**

"Wait a minute! Wait!" Jim told Detective Moss, holding up his phone. "It's them!"

With a frown, Moss took the phone from Brass, flipping it open. "…Hello?"

"They're all dead," Colonel Mustard coldly told him. "All of them. Except for Sara. This is your last chance," he warned the detective. "Do you have the money?"

Moss said nothing.

"Shit…" Colonel Mustard replied. "You brought this on yourself, Detective Moss. Their deaths are all on your head," he added, as one final bullet rang out.

"SHIT! MOVE IN! MOVE IN NOW!" Moss screamed at Smith.

Smith nodded, immediately giving his team the go-ahead to storm the First National Bank.

---------------

**CBS News, anchor desk**

All of a sudden, the newsroom became the scene of utter chaos and despair. "Folks, the SWAT team is moving in," Renee announced to all of the viewers. "The SWAT team is storming the building as we speak! Whatever is going to happen, the end is near!"

---------------

**In the lab**

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Warrick yelled, instantly jumping to his feet.

"They're doing it… they're actually doing it!" Greg screamed at the top of his lungs, the panic and fear taking over.

"Oh, my God…" Catherine whispered.

Grissom's jaw just dropped, as he helplessly watched the SWAT team enter the bank, guns and shields held out in front of them.

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED 


	10. SWAT

**A/N: Thank you **_**so **_**much for reading and reviewing this fic! I thought this would be the last chapter, but apparently, I was wrong… one more to go after this! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And I'm sure that the First National Bank is a great bank! This is complete fiction.

**Title:**___SWAT_

**Inside the bank**

"Go! Go! This is a go!" Dudley Smith yelled to his team, as they started to storm the bank.

Jackson ran toward the bank, his gun and shield held directly in front of him. He had to admit, despite the nature of his job, and the tragedy of what had to occur before he was even brought in to a scene, he loved what he did… he loved the danger, he loved the excitement, and he loved the thrill of it all. Even though he also realized that there was nothing exciting or thrilling about trying to end an extremely dangerous situation.

As he and the other members of his team approached the front doors of the bank, Smith once again yelled for them to go.

With a nod, several of Jackson's colleagues blew the hinges off of the bank's doors, while he himself threw in a couple of tear gas canisters. Making sure that his mask was firmly in place, he and his friends rushed into the building, once again protected by their shields and guns.

**CBS News, anchor desk**

"Folks," Renee spoke up, "The SWAT team is officially inside the building, when just moments before, they blew the bank's doors wide open. Only time will tell how this day will end!"

**Inside the lab**

"God _damn_ it!" Warrick again yelled, as he stood just inches in front of the television set. "This never would have happened, if the police officers had just given them what they requested! Shit!" he screamed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

Nick, with a heavy sigh, continued to watch the newscaster, knowing that there was nothing that he would be able to say or do to make his friend feel any better. Having SWAT go in just made everything ten times worse, and he recognized that fact.

Everyone recognized that fact.

"Maybe… maybe Sara will be okay…?" Greg trailed off, no longer interested in his coffee.

"Right…" Catherine whispered. "Perhaps… she's just hiding in a corner, and…"

"And pigs will fly!" Warrick immediately yelled. "Because those SWAT guys won't be paying any attention to her… or whoever else is still alive over there," he sputtered, barely able to control his anger.

Grissom swallowed, picking up his cell phone, and calling Brass. If anyone would be able to give them any information, it would be him.

**Outside the bank, near the command post**

Jim sighed, staring down at the caller ID. _I don't… want to talk to you, Gil,_ he quietly thought to himself, knowing that the conversation would not go well. But his phone kept ringing, and he frowned. "Grissom…?" he trailed off.

"Why did SWAT go inside the bank, Jim…?" Grissom asked his friend and colleague. "Was it… really that bad, that they had to go inside…?"

"Gil, I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you…" Jim swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What? What is it…?"

"Sara called, just before the SWAT team went in….and…"

Grissom frowned. "And what, Jim?"

"Gil… they've been shooting hostages every hour on the hour, and… Sara was the last one…"

"They've been… what? And what do you mean? I don't understand!" Grissom replied, the confusion evident in his voice. "She was the last…what…?"

"The last hostage, Gil… Sara was the last hostage…" Jim told him with a sigh.

"She… was the last hostage…? _Was…_? What does that mean?" Complete silence filled the air. "What does that mean, Jim?" he again asked, the panic clearly evident in his voice.

"Gil… I'm sorry… we… heard the gunshot. She was… shot… she might even be dead…"

"No, of course she's not dead, Jim! You're mistaken…there's no way!" Silence again filled the cell phone. "Jim? There's no way!" he repeated, a bit more loudly.

"I'm sorry, Grissom… I truly am…" he trailed off.

Grissom just cut the connection. With a frown, Jim returned his attention to the events taking place in the bank.

**In the lab**

"What… are you doing, Grissom?" Warrick hoarsely asked, turning to look at his supervisor.

But Grissom completely ignored him, as he held his phone up to his ear.

"_Why did SWAT go inside the bank, Jim…?"_ Grissom asked his friend and colleague. "_Was it… really that bad, that they had to go inside…?"_

Catherine perked her head up, staring at Grissom. _Perhaps he can get some answers for us… maybe… things will be okay._

"_What? What is it…?" _Grissom asked Brass, frowning. _"And what, Jim?"_

_Why…does he look so nervous…? _Nick wondered to himself, taking a deep breath.

"_They've been… what? And what do you mean? I don't understand!" _Grissom replied, the confusion evident in his voice._ "She was the last…what…? She… was the last hostage…? Was…? What does that mean?"_

"What the hell does that mean?" Warrick yelled, running toward Grissom.

Complete silence filled the air. _"What does that mean, Jim?"_ Grissom repeated, the panic clearly evident in his voice. _"No, of course she's not dead, Jim! You're mistaken…there's no way!" _Silence again filled the cell phone._ "Jim? There's no way!" _he repeated, a bit more loudly.

"She's… what?" Greg whispered, his face going pale.

"Oh, hell no!" Warrick yelled, pounding his fist on the table, and immediately running out of the room.

"She's… dead…?" Nick asked, staring at the ground. "But how is that possible…? How did it get to this point…?" he mumbled aloud, not caring who heard him.

"Oh, Sara…" Catherine moaned, putting her head in her hands. "Sara…" she repeated, as the tears slowly slid down her cheeks.

**Inside the bank**

"Do you see anyone?" Smith asked his team, as they entered the bank.

"No!" Jackson replied, as his light shined to the right side of the room.

"I don't, either!" Larkson reported, as he quickly scanned the left side of the room. "If the hostages are dead, they aren't in this room!" he added, as they continued to clear the area.

Cautiously walking toward the front counter, Smith peered around the corner, frowning. "Nothing back here!" he called out.

"Nor over here!" Jackson yelled, glancing into one of the cubicles.

"Nothing over here, either!" Larkson told everyone, frowning.

Smith nodded, pointing toward the door that led to the back of the bank. Gathering Jackson, Larkson, the rest of his team, and a unit of other heavily armed and protected police officers, he pulled open the door, tossing a canister of tear gas inside. Then with a determined expression on his face, he ran through the door.

Holding his shield in front of his eyes, and with his heart pounding loudly in his chest, Jackson pushed through the door, wildly looking around.

"Spread out, and clear the place!" Smith ordered, as he continued to move toward the bank's vault. "They could still be in here!" he yelled out, although… he highly doubted it. And then he froze.

And then Jackson froze.

And then Larkson froze, nearly bumping into his two colleagues.

"What… the hell…?" Smith whispered.

"What… the fuck!" Jackson screamed.

"Huh…?" Larkson asked, dropping his gun so that it was pointing at the floor.

**Inside the bank's vault**

"Sara…?" Timothy whispered, running to her the moment that Colonel Mustard threw her into the vault. "I'm really scared! I'm _really _scared this time! What's going on?" he asked her, the tears still streaming down his face. "I don't get it! What's going on?" he repeated over and over again, trying to bury his face against her legs. Hiccupping, he just cried harder.

"I don't… I don't know, Timmy!" Sara whispered, swallowing, and trying to steady her nerves. Pulling him into her arms, and quickly walking to the back of the vault, Sara allowed herself to slump to the floor, exhausted from the fear and panic that had been wracking her body for the past four or five hours. _What… what the hell is going on…? _she questioned herself, staring at the faces of everyone who was already supposed to be dead.

Jennifer and Aaron Armstrong, huddled together along one side of the vault, were trying to collect their thoughts. Holding his wife tightly in his arms, Aaron continued to rub her back, as he nervously looked around the room at the other hostages. "I don't know, either," he finally told Sara. "They just… they brought us back here, and then… just fired at the ceiling!" he explained.

Rebecca just nodded, staring at the ground. "Colonel Mustard told me that I was a good person…" she sniffled, starting to sob. "And that it was nice of me to offer to sacrifice myself for Timmy…" she trailed off, as she started to shake even harder. "I thought… I thought that I was going to die!" she whispered, her face pale, and her voice unsteady. "Sara, I thought that I was going to die!"

"Me, too!" Timothy chimed in, sucking his thumb, and resting his head against Sara's chest. "I thought that I was going to die, too!" he repeated, as he felt himself starting to cry even harder.

Sara just wrapped her arms even more tightly around Timothy, gently running her fingers through her hair. "It's okay, honey… I think that it's going to be okay, now…" she told him.

"So… we're…_not_ going to die…?" Albert asked the group of people, completely puzzled.

Susan just glared at the old man. "No thanks to you… you should have volunteered to go first!" she screamed.

"I have a wife to take care of!" he angrily shot back.

"And I have a family, too!" she replied, equally as angry.

"ENOUGH!" Sara finally shouted.

Timothy just threw his hands over his ears, whimpering at the tone of Sara's voice.

"Isn't it enough that we're all still alive…?" she softly asked, noticing Timothy's terrified body language. "Huh? Because we're all still alive…" she quietly repeated.

"Nuh-uh…" Timothy whispered. "Not my mommy…" he added. "She's still dead…" he pointed out, looking around the empty vault for her smiling and cheerful face.

Sure enough, Timothy's mother was not with the other hostages.

"I'm…sorry, honey…" Sara quietly told him, swallowing. Gently running her fingers through his hair, she frowned. "I'm so sorry…"

Albert just looked at the ground, while Aaron continued to hold his wife.

"Where… where did they go…?" Sara finally asked the obvious question.

"They said something about a tunnel…" Aaron spoke up. "About opening the hatch to the tunnel…"

"But… there _is_ no tunnel under this bank," Susan quietly mumbled, totally confused.

"Actually," Shannon, the teller, said, slowly standing up. "There is… my father works for the city, and you know those massive drainage tubes that they have for flooding? Well, this bank was built over one of them…"

"But…" Ronald frowned, staring at the ground. "How would they have known that…?" he asked. "Unless…" he trailed off.

All of a sudden, Sara jumped, hearing noises coming from the front of the bank. "What… what was that?" she asked, holding onto Timothy even harder.

"That was an explosion!" Albert screamed. "We're all still going to die!" he yelled, flattening himself on the ground.

"Everyone, take cover!" Ronald ordered, moving to the back of the vault. "And cover your heads!"

_Like that's going to help in an explosion… _Sara swallowed, once again feeling afraid. But laying Timothy down on the ground, and protecting him with her own body, she held back a scream, as she continued to hear noises coming from somewhere beyond the door to the vault.

And then everything started to change, once again. Sara froze, as the door to the room just in front of the vault opened, and a canister was thrown inside. She didn't even have time to register what was going on, as she felt a choking, stinging sensation in her eyes, nose, and lungs.

"What… the hell…?" she heard someone whisper, as she choked on her own saliva.

"What… the fuck!" she heard someone else scream, as her eyes continued to tear up, and she coughed.

"Huh…?" she heard a third voice ask, as she felt herself almost pass out, tightly holding Timothy, who was now trying to scream.

"SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!" the first voice said.

**The lab's parking lot**

"I'm coming, Sara! You're not dead!" Warrick hysterically screamed, as he ran out into the parking lot, found his car, and jammed his keys into the ignition. "YOU'RE NOT DEAD, AND I'M COMING! HANG ON!"

**Outside the bank, in the command post**

"SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!" Smith's voice loudly said over the police radio. "SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE, NOW! THEY'RE ALL ALIVE!" he added, as the assembled detectives heard people coughing and choking in the background.

"You heard the man!" Ryan Moss yelled. "Send in the EMTs! NOW!"

**CBS News, anchor desk**

"What… what's going on?" Renee asked, the excitement rising in her voice. "Folks, it appears as if the EMTs are being called in! And they're running… fast!" she added, watching her monitor. "That means that… there is at least one person still alive!" she told the viewers, grinning, as the image turned to that of four different ambulances, which were all sending emergency crews inside the bank.

**Inside the lab**

"They're… they're sending in the EMTs!" Greg pointed out, jumping up.

"That means that—" Catherine started to say.

"Someone's still alive!" Nick finished her sentence for her.

_But who…? _Grissom secretly wondered.

TO BE CONTINUED

**A/N: One more chapter to go! Find out where the criminals are, what happened to the money (if they took anything), and what happens between Sara and Warrick!**


	11. Loose Ends Tied Up

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed this fic… your comments meant a lot to me, and I loved knowing what you all thought about it! And as always, I hope that you all enjoyed reading **The Bank** as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

---------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And I'm sure that the First National Bank is a great bank! This is a work of complete fiction. Also, most of the non-profit agencies do not exist!

**Title: **_Loose Ends Tied Up_

_---------------_

**Inside the bank**

"They're back here!" Smith loudly called out. "All of the hostages are back here!" he repeated, as he heard the EMTs crashing through the bank's doors.

"But how…?" Mike Eddington asked, as he surveyed the former hostages, who were all huddled together. "I thought…"

"Well obviously they're all still living!" Smith replied, glancing into the vault. "Go on, go check them out!"

Sara, trying to wipe the tears out of her red and swollen eyes, turned to the side, immediately vomiting, as she choked on the remnants of the tear gas

"The tear gas… get these people out of here!" Eddington told his colleagues, who all started to help them off of the ground.

Rebecca, unable to see, nearly screamed as someone touched her.

"It's okay!" Sara told her, trying to stand up, with Timothy still in her arms. "It's okay, Rebecca… they're just trying to help…"

"Let us guide you out of here," one of the EMTs spoke up, gently grabbing Rebecca by the arm, and practically running her outside of the vault.

Another EMT helped Aaron, who was still clutching his wife, while a third EMT tried to guide several of the tellers outside.

"It's going to be okay, Timmy…" Sara whispered, as she once again turned to the side, vomiting.

"But you're sick, Sara…" he told her, the tears still streaming down his own face.

"It's just the tear gas… I'll be fine…" she hoarsely mumbled, as she felt a strong arm grab her, carrying her outside.

Within ten minutes, every single hostage was safely outside… well… except for Timothy's mother, and the security guard.

---------------

**CBS News, anchor desk**

Renee could barely contain her enthusiasm, as she bounced up and down in her seat. "For those of you just now tuning in," she announced, "The First National Bank on Lindale Avenue was robbed, although the robbery appears to be just about over…" she said, grinning from ear to ear. "So far, seven people have emerged from the bank, with the worst of their problems stemming from the SWAT team's use of tear gas," she informed the audience, stopping to take a sip of her water. "And that makes hostage number eight…" she added, as Albert, assisted by an EMT, exited the building. "And nine and ten," she finished, as Sara stumbled out of the bank's front doors, still tightly clutching Timothy in her arms.

---------------

**In the lab**

"There's… people!" Greg screamed, jumping out of his chair. "I see people coming out of the bank!"

"I… don't believe it!" Nick whispered, his eyes suddenly wide, and his face still pale. "I honestly… don't believe it!" he excitedly added.

"How many people is that so far…?" Catherine asked, trying to keep track of the hostages as they emerged from the bank.

"Five… six…seven…" Grissom counted aloud for her.

"Eight…" Greg swallowed, as he watched Albert being rushed to an ambulance.

"Nine and ten…" Grissom whispered, as Sara stumbled out of the bank, with Timothy in her arms.

After a moment of stunned silence, the color rushed back into Catherine's cheeks. "She's… alive!" she managed to get out.

"She's really alive!" Nick added, grinning from ear to hear.

Greg, for once, just remained quiet, as Grissom picked up his cell phone to call Jim.

---------------

**Outside the bank**

Brass just looked down at his caller ID, flashing Sofia a slight smile. Flipping the phone open, he sighed. "Yes, Gil, Sara is out of the bank, and... and no, I don't know anything yet. I'll call you the moment that I learn anything…" he trailed off, before hanging up on Grissom.

---------------

**On the road to the bank**

Warrick, his eyes on the road, didn't even bother to flip the radio on as he drove toward Lindale Avenue. "You're going to be okay, Sara…" he whispered. "I know you are… it's okay… I'm going to be there soon, and then I'm going to come find you… you're okay…" he repeated to himself over and over again, as he drove eighty miles an hour down the expressway.

When Warrick finally reached the cordoned off area of the bank, he reached into his pocket, and flashed his badge at the nearest cop.

"But Sir," the cop told him, "I don't think that we're ready for CSI just yet…"

"LET ME THROUGH!" Warrick screamed out, ready to pounce on the younger man.

"I can't, Sir, I'm sorry… I'm under orders not to let anyone through…"

"I HAVE A BADGE! LET ME THROUGH!"

---------------

**Outside the bank**

After hanging up with Grissom, Jim rubbed the back of his neck, heading toward the waiting ambulances. He knew that Sara still had to be terrified, and he recognized the fact that she probably really needed a friend to lean on.

Before getting too far, however, Jim heard shouting, and turned around to look for its source.

"LET ME THROUGH!" he heard Warrick yell.

With a sigh, Jim turned on his heels, heading toward the police officer and Warrick.

"I can't, Sir, I'm sorry… I'm under orders not to let anyone through…" he heard the officer say.

"I HAVE A BADGE! LET ME THROUGH!" Warrick yelled, almost as if panicking.

"It's okay, Louis, he's with me," Brass quietly told the officer, waving Warrick through the barrier.

"Jim? What's going on?" Warrick asked, noticing the ambulances for the first time.

"You mean… you don't know…?" Jim asked him, the surprise clear in his voice.

Warrick slowly shook his head no, trying to process why he was seeing EMTs running all over the place. "Don't know… what…?" he tentatively asked Brass.

"Rick, they're alive. All of them. The bank robbers never killed a single hostage…"

"They're… alive? Sara's… alive?" Warrick swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts. "Where is she, Jim? I want to see her!" he said, as he started to run off toward the ambulances.

Jim just shook his head, trying to bite back a smile. Glancing at the sky, he closed his eyes. _Thank goodness everyone is okay…_

---------------

**By the ambulances**

"Sara? Sara, where are you?" Warrick shouted, as he darted toward the nearest ambulance.

"Warrick…?" Sara whispered, her voice cracked and hoarse from the aftereffects of the tear gas. "Warrick…? Is that you…?"

"Sara, I don't see you! Where are you!" he yelled, desperately searching one ambulance after another.

"Sara?" Rebecca asked Warrick. "Sara is by the last ambulance… I think…" she whispered, as she allowed the EMTs to load her body onto the ambulance, in order to be rushed off to Desert Palms Hospital.

"Thanks," Warrick muttered, as he ran off to the last ambulance in line. "Sara…?" he asked, choking back a sob.

"I'm over here…" Sara tried to get his attention, her eyes still red and puffy from the tear gas. "I'm over here, Warrick!"

Warrick ran to Sara's side, choking back another sob, as he took in her appearance: her eyes, red and puffy, tear-stains down her cheeks, her hair a complete mess. "Oh, Sara…" he whispered, as he gingerly walked toward her, and held his arms open, as if about to hug her.

"I was so scared…" Sara whispered to him. "I thought that I was going to die…" she admitted, gently setting Timothy down next to her, so that she could scoot closer to Warrick. But she didn't have to move, because one moment later, she felt Warrick's arms tightly wrapped around her body. "I thought that I was going to die…" she repeated, as she felt her pent up emotions try to break free. "And as more people continued to leave, I thought that…" she started to say, as a sob wracked her body. "I thought that they were all dead…" she told him, burying her head against his chest, the same way that Timothy had done to her, just moments before.

"Shh… it's okay…" Warrick told her, heavily swallowing. "It's okay, Sara," he repeated, as he slowly ran his fingers through her hair. "You're alive… you're all alive…" he whispered, gently rubbing her back.

Timothy looked up at Sara and Warrick, his thumb firmly planted in his mouth. "I was scared, too…" he told Warrick, searching his face. "I thought that I was gonna die, too…"

Mike carefully picked Timothy up, carrying him away so that Sara and Warrick could just talk.

"I didn't want to die, Warrick…" Sara mumbled, her head still resting against his chest. "And… I thought that I was going to… I really did… and I didn't want to… I didn't want to do those things for the bank robbers…I didn't want to make the phone calls, or get the food," she sniffled, as the tears started to come again, but this time, faster. "And after they shot the security guard, and Timmy's mother, I thought that they were going to kill everyone else, too…."

Warrick swallowed, one hand rubbing Sara's back, while the other hand gently moved through her hair. He didn't care about everyone else… he only cared about her. "But you're okay, Sara…" he assured her, holding her close.

"Don't let go of me, Warrick… please…" she mumbled, crying harder. "I don't feel safe right now, and I want to…"

"Don't worry, Sara. I'm not going to let go… ever…" he told her, gently kissing the top of her head.

A couple of minutes later, Sara looked up at Warrick, swallowing. "Poor Timmy…" she mumbled, swallowing. "What's he going to do now, with no mother…?"

At that moment, Brass and Moss both appeared by Sara's side, having heard the last bit of her statement.

"Sara…?" Jim quietly frowned, biting his lip. Warrick just threw Brass a look, a little upset that he had interrupted them. "I'm sorry to… interrupt you two, but… did you say that Timothy's mother is gone…?"

Sara nodded, clinging to Warrick's shirt.

Brass and Moss exchanged a curious look, starting to walk away.

"Jim? Why do you ask…?" Warrick wanted to know.

"Well…" Jim trailed off. "We didn't find any bodies… anywhere…"

"Wh-what…?" Sara asked, swallowing. "But that doesn't make any sense…why would they take the bodies away…?"

"To avoid going to jail for murder…?" Warrick suggested.

But Jim just shook his head. "I don't know…" he admitted

---------------

**In the sewer**

"Do you… think that they'll find us…?" Wadsworth asked Colonel Mustard, as they quickly walked away from the bank.

"No, never…" Colonel Mustard told him with a small grin. Turning to Mr. Green and Professor Plum, he asked, "Did you two grab the stuff?"

Professor Plum just grinned, holding up the bag. "Approximately one million dollars in jewels… I can't believe that we got away with it…"

"You're telling me," Mr. Boddy laughed, dusting himself off. "And I had to play dead all day, too… I thought that Sara would eventually figure it out…"

"And it will all be worth it," Miss Scarlet sighed. "Although… I will certainly miss Timmy."

"I know, Lonnie," Colonel Mustard told her, stopping for a moment to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug. "But you'll get him back soon enough… and think about all of the good that we'll be doing in the meantime…people will get the money that they so desperately need…even if the board of trustees of this bank never finds out why we robbed it, we'll have the satisfaction of knowing that we used the money for good…"

"Right," she mumbled, wiping a tear away, and continuing to move through the sewer. "We're doing a lot of good…"

"And we'll help a lot of people…" Mr. Green spoke up.

"And we'll save the world…" Professor Plum grinned.

"One bank heist at a time…" Colonel Mustard finished.

---------------

**One year later, at the lab**

"So how's Timothy doing…?" Warrick asked Sara, entering the break room, and sitting down beside her.

"He's doing okay, I think…" Sara replied with a smile. "I just saw him a couple of days ago, actually, and… he seems to be fitting in fairly well at his new foster care home… although he still misses his mother a great deal…"

"That still bugs me, ya know…?" Nick asked, walking into the room. "What ever happened to his mother and the security guard…?" he mused.

Greg just shrugged, grabbing himself a cup of coffee. "I'm just surprised that they managed to pull it off," he told his colleagues, joining them at the table. "Because… it's not every day that someone successfully manages to rob a bank."

Strolling into the break room, Grissom handed Sara a letter. "This just came for you," he told her, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Oh…?" Sara asked, examining the envelope. "No return address… post-marked from one of the islands in the Caymans…."

Nick turned to look at Sara, very curious. "What does it say…?" he asked her.

Tearing it open, Sara's eyes scanned the paper, as her smile slowly started to fade. "It's… from Timothy's mother…" she told her friends and colleagues. "Here… take a look…" she added, tossing the letter onto the table.

_Dear Sara Sidle,_

_I am so sorry for everything that we put you through in the bank. It was never our intention to hurt anyone, and… I desperately wanted to tell you that I was okay, and that none of you would be harmed… but for all intents and purposes, I was dead._

_I… sincerely want to thank you for continuously checking in on my boy. Timothy is a good kid, and I miss him terribly. It won't be long now before I can once again hold him in my arms, and I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you did for him during the bank robbery. Because of you, he was less scared than he could have otherwise been._

_Good luck with everything, and… thank you again._

_Sincerely,_

_Miss Scarlet_

Grissom bit his lip, frowning at the new piece of evidence. "Interesting…" he commented, glancing up as Catherine flew into the room.

"Have you all seen the news yet?" she asked, immediately flipping the station to CBS.

"No, what's wrong?" Warrick asked, his arm resting on the back of Sara's chair.

"It's not… another bank robbery, is it…?" Sara cautiously asked.

"No, not at all!" Catherine replied. "But this is… unusual!"

---------------

**CBS News, anchor desk**

"In a story that involves a group of modern day Robin Hoods of sorts," Renee reported to her faithful viewers, "non-profit agencies from around the country have been receiving large donations from random people. Thanks to these individuals, the agencies will continue to be able to do their good work. On your screen, you will see a transcript of the heartfelt letters that were recently sent…"

---------------

**Livin' It Up, New York City**

_Dear Mr. Max King, Executive Director:_

_You do not know me, but I know of your organization. People do not realize how difficult it can be to get a loan, when you do not have much to your name. I myself was born into an underprivileged family, and had to stand by as my mother slowly and painfully died, when my father could no longer afford her medication, and the bank refused to give him a loan. It was difficult, and… my entire family suffered for it._

_Several years ago, a friend of mine introduced me to your non-profit agency. I am thankful that someone had the decency to create an organization that provides loans to people who have been turned down by a bank, and who really need the money…just to survive. In fact, the world needs more agencies just like your own… agencies that are willing to see the person, and not the size of their assets._

_I am enclosing $250,000. It is my hope that this money will help further your cause._

_Sincerely,_

_**C**live **M**orton_

---------------

**Healthy Move, Washington, D.C.**

_Dear Mr. Bob Steiner, Executive Director:_

_For the past several years, I have been following your organization, and I very impressed with what you do. Although many organizations attempt to feed the homeless, your non-profit agency combines community awareness with volunteerism, incorporating a myriad of public agencies into your fight to help the homeless climb their way out of a very difficult and dark hole. I respect what you do, and I was extremely excited to hear that you opened up a Healthy Move in five other cities around the country._

_Although I wish that I could volunteer my time with your worthwhile organization, please accept this $150,000 dollars to help further your cause._

_Sincerely,_

_**P**eter **P**ickle_

---------------

**St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, Memphis, Tennessee**

_To whom it may concern:_

_I am an independently wealthy person, who believes in your cause. With all of my heart, I hope that you can find some sort of a use for the $150,000 that I am enclosing. Perhaps this money will do some good for your hospital…_

_Sincerely,_

_**M**issy **S**carletta_

**---------------**

**The Everglades, Florida, United States**

_To whom it may concern:_

_When most people think of a place to donate money to, they do not always think of environmental causes. But I have to be honest with you. I have a lot of anxiety in my life, and nature calms me down… the water… the trees… the animals… I wish that more people would take the time to smell the roses, so to speak._

_Although it is not much, please accept this $150,000, to help keep the Everglades beautiful. And thank you, for all that you do!_

_Sincerely,_

_**W**illiam **W**inters_

---------------

**Happy Campers, Los Angeles, California**

_Dear Jose Santos, Executive Director:_

_When I was a boy, I was never able to afford going to camp. Most of my friends went away for at least one week every summer, and I was stuck at home and forced to work. My family was poor, and all of our money went for food, or clothing, or shelter._

_I fell in love with your non-profit agency five years ago, when I first learned of it. I love how you send under-privileged children to camp for free, allowing them to have the experience of a lifetime._

_Please accept this $150,000 as a token of my gratitude, for all that you do. Keep camping!_

_Sincerely,_

_**M**ark **B**iscuit_

---------------

**The Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation**

_To whom it may concern:_

_Keep on saving the children of this world. Here is $150,000 to help you do so. Spend it wisely!_

_Sincerely,_

_**M**ac **G**lower_

---------------

**In the lab**

"Just… check out the names of the individuals…" Catherine grinned, sitting down at the table.

"Clive Morton, Peter Pickle, Missy Scarletta, William Winters, Mark Biscuit, Mac Glower…" Greg stared at the screen.

"The bank robbers…" Sara slowly said. "Their initials stand for the names of the Clue characters…the money is from the bank robbers…"

"Well I'll be…" Nick mused, staring at the television set.

Greg just laughed, and Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"Well at least the money went for a good cause…" Warrick trailed off, glancing over at Sara.

Sara just nodded, smiling. Would they share what they knew? Sara wasn't sure.

---------------

**CBS News, Anchor Desk**

"And in an unrelated news event, six year old Timothy Reece, famed for his participation in last year's First National Bank heist, has vanished. Police are currently searching for clues, although…. he seems to be completely gone," Renee reported. "And that will do it for tonight's evening news!"

---------------

**An undisclosed island in the Caymans**

"Mommy!" Timothy happily screamed, splashing in the water.

---------------

_Finis _


End file.
